


Between Reputation and Honor

by zinjadu



Series: Knight-Errant [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Diplomacy, Gen, Reconciliation, Rememberance, Secret Missions, Self Care, Torguta Culture, but it kind of works?, quasi romantic moments, that i made up, the Council is trying guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: In the aftermath of Tarkin's renegade crusade against Knight-Errant and General Ahsoka Tano, the war has grown oddly quiet.  This gives the Jedi Order time to regroup and perhaps prepare for the first time since the war began.  This also gives some of our heroes a chance to reclaim parts of themselves they had thought lost, or find things they had not dared to dream of."Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself."  -- Lois McMaster Bujold.





	1. Prologue: Secret Councils

On Coruscant, in Master Yoda’s private rooms, Adi Gallia sat perched on a low seat. Mace Windu was to her left, with Tera Sinube past him, while Vokara Che sat to her right. Three members of the Council, one of the precious few Sentinels left, and the best Healer the Order had boasted in generations. The small Grandmaster sat comfortably, his legs drawn up underneath him. The last few days had been a whirl-wind of revelations, accompanied by a sinking horror at what deprivations were hidden inside the very heart of the Republic.

 

Adi had been born on Coruscant, and it had been her home as long as she could remember. It had been here where she had grown, learned, and gained a keen interest in politics. She had given her life to serve the Order and the Republic, and now they were about to embark on their most dangerous task yet: maneuvering against a Sith Lord who had a grip on the levers of power. It all rather made her skin crawl, but more it made her practically irate. The Senate was her place, a place she had been able to help the galaxy for decades, and now it was befouled by the Darkside.

 

But a sliver of hope remained. All was not yet lost, and among them might be the means and ways of finding their way through this maze they found themselves in. After the revelations supplied by Knight-Errant Tano, Adi received not a message or an invitation as such, but a mere _impression_ , a whisper on the barest edge of her senses, that Yoda would like to speak with her. Likely, the others had received the same message. Clearly, the small Jedi did not trust that anything electronic was safe to use, and the deftness of his call through the Force would not have been possible had she not been in the Temple in the first place.

 

Now they were silent, each in their own thoughts, perhaps wondering, as she did, why this meeting was taking place. Why the full Council was not assembled. Then she saw Yoda smiling, his ears perked up. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she let it go.

 

There was no point in getting worked up about Yoda’s habits at this point.

 

“Much there is to do,” Master Yoda said, “and small the circle must be if it is to be done. Never far from Coruscant for long, never far from me for long, all of you are. Safer, this way, yes, hm?”

 

And that was her answer about why three-quarters of the Council were not present, and why Tera and Vokara were involved, aside from their obvious skills. A noticeable change in Jedi Council movements would be problematic, because then the enemy would have confirmation of Jedi information about said enemy. That was to be avoided at all costs.

 

“A prudent move,” Tera agreed, his long fingers closing over the top of his cane, which he now mostly carried as an affectation rather than an aid. “Whether or not it is wise, of course, remains to be seen.”

 

“Regardless, is it safe, even here to speak openly?” Mace asked, his face calm, but that eyebrow raise and clipped tone gave away his agitation, to anyone who knew him well enough. “The Darkside does more than cloud our senses, but also our judgment. Even speaking too openly, even if what appears to be relative safety, might tip the scales away from us even more.”

 

“Sometimes, Mace, you can be such a paranoid barve,” Vokara said, though not without a measure of fondness. “We have to be plain here, or we risk something worse: _misunderstanding_. We have to be clear, we have to be precise, if we are do the job of saving the Galaxy and this Order from the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

 

That last comment earned the master Healer a level look from Mace, though Tera snorted in amusement. Mace opened his mouth to reply, and likely reply in typical agitated-Mace fashion, when Adi decided it was time to break into things. A peerless warrior and a tough-as-durasteel healer, each might be, but diplomats they were certainly not.

 

“We don’t have time for this, you two. Let historians debate about how we got here and judge us. At this moment, the past is only useful to us insofar as it allows us to understand the present situation and manage future outcomes,” she said, giving them both a steady look.

 

“Speak the truth, Aid does,” Yoda said, his ears low, and she could see something almost like sorrow in him. What that might imply, she did not care to think about. “Many questions we have. Unclear, the Chancellor’s connection to the Sith. Puppet is he, or master, or something else?”

 

“The question might be rather academic at this point, my friend,” Tera pointed out. “Perhaps things will come to a head at some point, on that score, but for now we must assume that there is no appreciable difference. The more interesting outcome, however, is the sure knowledge that his war was manufactured. Likely, much of the conflict and aggression over the past decade or so has been, at least, according to my research.”

 

“How do you surmise that little fact, Tera?” Vokara asked, with her usual lack of tact. Adi sometimes wondered were Vokara’s aggressive disregard for social niceties came from, being a Healer. Perhaps it was seeing people get hurt in stupid and inventive ways.

 

“Oh, if one knows not just where to look, but how, Vokara, one can see many different solutions than the ones that were presented at the time,” Tera replied, giving her that satisfied little smile of a professor who knows all the answers.

 

“That research could be dangerous,” Mace warned, but Tera only shook his head.

 

“No, the day I am not careful, is truly the day we are lost, Mace. I took the utmost care, and I stand by my conclusions. This war has been a long time coming. Everything about it is meant to destabilize and cause heightened fear, to create the desire to turn to strong authority figures, while also allowing for prolonged conflict. Were we not using droid and clone armies, for instance, this war would be much more denounced by the general public on both sides. As it stands, few citizens are sacrificed, and opposition to the war is largely an economic concern,” Tera concluded, laying it out for them.

 

“Speaking of the clones,” Vokara said, “I’ve looked at those chips. I’m going to have a hell of a time dealing with them if I can’t get outside help, but I’ll do my best. No being deserves that kind of treatment, to be born with a slave collar inside their own heads.” The Twi’leki woman’s tone was nearly vehement on the last point, and Adi whole heartedly agreed.

 

“Yes, they deserve better,” Mace agreed, his own experiences with the clones having something of a strange mellowing effect on him. “But we must plan for the case where we cannot save them.”

 

“Agree, I do, with these assessments,” Yoda said, his ears, always a giveaway for his mood, were carefully still now. “A diversion, this war is, and sacrifice the clones, we cannot. But save them, we might not. Preparations we must make, if we fail them.” The small Jedi nodded gravely to Mace. Then Yoda looked to Tera, and the other elder Jedi inclined his head. If anyone could create and make a secret plan for a full evacuation of the Jedi Order, it was Tera Sinube, who likely knew more of the Undercity of Coruscant than any one still drawing breath.

 

“There must be more we can do,” Adi said, leaning forward. “The war has gone quiet, though with Tera’s conclusions in mind, it must be because our enemy is regrouping and reassessing. But, I think we could take advantage of this lull. There are lingering problems that could be attended to, which would allow us to give our opponent our full attention when they make their move. Rather than be out of place, we must ensure that we are ready, poised to strike the moment they make their move.”

 

“Expect this from Mace, I would, but not you Adi,” Yoda said, tilting his head to the side. Adi smiled.

 

“You clearly haven’t spent enough time in the Senate, then, Master Yoda,” she returned, knowing her eyes were dancing. She knew she shouldn’t enjoy the prospect of outmaneuvering an enemy like this, but when the fate of the Galaxy and the Order itself were in the balance, it was the finest of threads to walk, and Adi had always enjoyed a challenge.

 

“I agree with Adi,” Mace said, nodding to her in acknowledgment. “Vokara and Tera will work on our defense, and she and I can coordinate our offence. There are some thoughts I’ve had in that direction.”

 

“Like to hear them, I would,” Master Yoda said, and Adi was already thinking of a few of her own.

 

The hope was slim. Slimmer than the finest weave, but it was there. The hope sparkled and danced on the edge of her vision, because now, for the first time since this dreadful war began, and perhaps longer, the Jedi were about to go beyond mere reaction. They were about to change the playing field all together.

 

At least this way, win or lose, they had actually fought back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I'm baaaaaaaaack!
> 
> Pacing issues resolved, and I hope you guys enjoy this instalment. It's not perfect, this, but I'm fairly happy with it, so it'll have to do. I couldn't include everyone (like Aayla, Kit, Plo, and our hilarious Padawans), but they didn't have the major issues to deal with that our main heroes did.
> 
> This is the little teaser, chapter 1 will up on Sunday, as per usual. The next fic is plotted but not written, though I hope it will go faster than writing this one took.
> 
> Also, I missed you guys! Anything good happen while I was gone? :)


	2. The Black Gang

Mace Windu looked thoughtfully into the middle distance. The others had left, leaving him alone with Master Yoda. It was a dangerous point upon which they danced now, knowing just enough to see what had gone wrong but not knowing enough to correct the course decisively, as he would have liked to. Instead, they had to run on the edges. And he knew all about edges, oh yes. The edge of the dark and light, the bleeding and the blending, where things became murky.

 

He didn’t like edges.

 

But he knew them better than most.

 

“Hm, a direct confrontation you would prefer, I know,” Yoda said quietly, his ears dipping now where before they had been carefully neutral. Few ever saw Master Yoda this way, and Mace was torn between knowing it for an honor and wishing he could maintain the illusion of Yoda’s infallibility like everyone else.

 

“I know it’s too great a risk, but I have an idea about how we might begin to counter the will of our true enemy,” Mace said, hoping he was making the right call. His ability to see and feel Shatterpoints was faint to non-existent now. Whether that meant there were no Shatterpoints or that he had lost his ability was unclear. It meant for the first time in a long time he was flying blind into the future.

 

It was another thing he didn’t care for.

 

“Your plan then, what is it?” Yoda asked, and Mace Windu laid out a dangerous first step in a quiet campaign to pare down the chaos that had so distracted the Jedi Order.

 

* * *

 

Asajj Ventress crossed her arms underneath her breasts and let her skepticism show on her face once Windu was done explaining the plan. She was back on the _Negotiator_ , having followed Kenobi off world once again. They were on a standard patrol, and she had to admit things were a little boring. The comm call had come through unexpectedly, and she’d taken it mostly out of sheer curiosity. Part of her wanted to take the mission if only because it offered a chance at payback, revenge for the wrongs done to her. Another part of her, a new and thoroughly annoying part, was wary of what the mission entailed.

 

“And you maintain that this isn’t an order, Windu?” she asked, making her voice into a drawl. She was aware that little of what she did got under the Jedi’s skin, but she was always willing to try.

 

“We could send him alone, of course, but for something like this, backup could be all the difference between success and failure. Not to mention that you are familiar with the location,” he said.

 

“And the target,” she pointed out. He inclined his head by way of reply. Drumming the fingers of one hand on her arm, she gave it another moment’s thought. It could go very badly, and being around Kenobi had been helpful as she found a place to stand in the galaxy on her own terms. But she would not know how well she stood if she always remained safe.

 

“Fine. I’ll do it,” she said, her words snapping and quick, as if to get them out before she changed her mind.

 

“You have my thanks, Lady Ventress. May the Force be with you,” he said.

 

“And you,” she replied before she could think about it. The comm cut, and she was left wondering why she was throwing herself back into this mess at all.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe Mace asked that of you directly! Without going through me first!” Kenobi declared after she handed him the order to head to a set rendezvous point. His agitation immediately set her off.

 

“You are not my Master, Kenobi! You are my _parole officer_ , which does not mean you are my keeper or my jailer,” she growled. He glared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes and sighed.

 

“Asajj, you don’t have to do this,” he said, turning weary blue eyes on her.

 

“I’ve already agreed to do it,” she said stiffly, unwilling to give ground even if he was behaving better.

 

“You shouldn’t have been asked in the first place,” he maintained, but she shook her head, her new shock of hair, pure white, falling around her face.

 

“Doesn’t matter now, Kenobi. And you don’t understand. I do have to do this. Some things… some things need facing,” she said, and then it was like he was evaluating her all over again.

 

“Then… I suppose I had better give the order to change course,” he said, and something seemed to go out of him at that. She knew what it was. He was a protector. Oh, not like Skywalker. The boy tried to protect people because he saw them as _his_ , which was clear when she interacted with the brat. Kenobi tried to protect people because, to him, people were worth protecting. And now she was leaving his protection, such as it was.

 

“Everything is a test, Kenobi,” she said. “I refuse to spend the rest of my life wondering. Untested.”

 

“Yes, yes I know,” he said accepting her reasons, she knew, but still unable to keep himself from feeling responsible.

 

It was a unique curse, she thought, to be Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 

* * *

 

Vos had arrived, and the man clearly set Obi-Wan’s teeth on edge. She knew it had something to do with the fact that he was eyeing Asajj up and down appreciatively. Of course she had noticed, but she had her own previous run-ins with the Kiffar Jedi before. Any reaction was likely to garner more attention, so she simply ignored it.

 

What was actually amusing, however, was Vos had decided to interpret Obi-Wan’s annoyance as jealousy. As though all that could exist between members of opposite genders had to be sexual if they were not related.

 

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. If she’s your girl, well, I’m sure she won’t look twice at me. Must be the reason for it,” Vos said with heaping handfuls of his annoying bravado.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that’s the reason,” Asajj drawled. That brought Vos up short, though for long. The man reverted to his natural state, that of an upright cat, essentially.

 

“I _like_ this one!” Vos declared, causing Asajj to grin sharply at him, showing her teeth in a distinctly unfriendly fashion.

 

“Ventress,” she corrected sharply. Vos shrugged.

 

“We better get going, honey,” Vos said, leading the way back to his ship. “Made some modifications, and we should be able to blend in nice and easy where we’re headed.”

 

“Honey,” Asajj mouthed silently, and then narrowed her eyes at the man’s retreating back. “I suppose it’s too late to insist that he space himself.”

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Obi-Wan said, drawing even with her. She huffed, irritated with Vos, but then Vos apparently had a habit of doing that to everyone. Drawing herself up and steeling herself, she strode to the ship.

 

“Asajj, may the Force be with you,” he said, and she turned on the gangway. For a moment she regarded him thoughtfully, then her mouth broke into a grin that was more warm than sharp. It even reached her eyes.

 

“May the Force be with you, too, Obi-Wan,” she said, and strode onto the ship as the gangway began to close behind her. As the door hissed shut and she stood in the small, cramped bay of the ship, she knew there was no going back. No going back to what she had been, at any point. Not the scared slave her people had bartered away, or the hopeful girl she had been all too briefly with Ky Narec, or even the hateful Sith devotee she had been until not so long ago. So although she was returning to a place she had never thought to see again, she knew she wasn’t going backwards.

 

Only forward.

 

* * *

 

To say Vos was irritating was a profound understatement. Cocky, arrogant, lecherous, all those things she could ignore and put up with. However, taken together, they combined into a perfect storm of annoyance. They had gotten to Serenno without incident, their ship broadcasting an independent transponder signal, and their gear was designed to blend in with the local space port populace. No robes and displayed sabers for them. Instead it was pants and jackets and blasters. Granted, they both had access to their sabers, but they were well disguised.

 

All of that said, Asajj was very tired of Vos being himself.

 

They sat at a little table in the cantina, observing the comings and goings of various palace staff. There was no need to be careful about her face, in spite of her frequent trips to this planet. Outside of the palace, no one had ever seen her, and the servants knew better than to pay any attention to what went on in the palace when Dooku was in residence.

 

“They’re like a herd of nerf,” Vos said disparagingly, his lip curling. “Never a thought beyond their little lives.”

 

Asajj warred with herself, her eyes narrowing and lips pressing into a flat line, knowing she should let the comment pass. There was no point, she had learned, in trying to point out that Vos had never been afraid and small in his entire life. How could he understand what it was to be a slave? To be cast out and made into nothing? It wasn’t as though she didn’t feel some distain for them as well. She prided herself on fighting whatever was holding her back, holding her down.

 

But she did remember being small and afraid and alone.

 

Once, such memories were banished as weakness, but now she could take them out and look at them, look at them and not hate the girl she had once been. It was a thing she had learned to do for herself, and not because anyone had told her to. Rather, because she wanted to stop being torn in different directions inside her own head.

 

So she didn’t comment, but didn’t let her temper get away from her either. It was a kind of middle ground, one she found easier to be on every day.

 

“I think we have enough intel now,” she said instead, switching the topic of conversation back to the task at hand. He raised an eyebrow at her, drumming his fingers on the table.

 

“All work and no play, honey,” he drawled.

 

“When my options are work or playing with you, the choice is easy,” she said, putting on a tone of false sweetness, just to make it sting a little more. He grinned, that cocky grin, like she hadn’t just said she’d rather take on high risk missions than do anything recreational with him.

 

“Not the date I was hoping for, but I guess it’ll do. At least it’ll be exciting, if a bit light on follow through,” he said, and she did roll her eyes then. It was getting to be a reflex.

 

* * *

 

In the dark of the night, the palace tower was even more formidable. They had to stick to the side away from the lights of the lower city, such as they were, and keep out of the moon and starlight. It meant careful, precise work, using grav-pitons to secure their lines without leaving a mark.

 

Asajj knew this mission was insane. A gamble of the highest order, but the Jedi were desperate, desperate enough to send her for this task.

 

Still, they climbed, and soon they were underneath the balcony that jutted out from Dooku’s main chambers. She knew those chambers well, where he gave her orders, and had occasionally trained her. A master duelist, he had taught her much, but not everything. In her time as a bounty hunter and in working with the Jedi, she had learned a great deal more. She felt a sharp smile flit across her face.

 

This time, he would not find her so easy to defeat.

 

Carefully, slowly, they circled the balcony’s overhang, each one going up the side of the building to where they drew even with the doorway. Then, on silent feet they made the jump, landing on either side of the door. She did have to admit, if only to herself, that she and Vos worked well together. A Jedi Shadow and former Sith assassin seemed to have similar skill sets, and that made her wonder anew about the moral high ground the Jedi clung to.

 

No. Never a Jedi, but no longer a Sith. Asajj would rather find her own place to stand.

 

He caught her eye, and with a slight nod, she indicated she was ready. They waited a beat, and then Vos applied a lock-picking device to the door. In a few moments it chimed, and they slunk in, sticking to shadows. They made a complete circuit of the rooms, silent as ghosts, their Force signatures completely masked.

 

And they found nothing.

 

Their intel had been wrong.

 

Hissing with frustration, Asajj went for the secondary objective. If they could access the terminal, they might be able to get some information about this Dark Sith Lord. The Jedi, if armed with proof, could move openly, end the war, and she might even get a full and complete pardon. That would be worth a great deal, to have all of her freedom back, to move through the galaxy unhindered and as she willed.

 

However, as soon as her hand hit the console, pain flared through her body. Bright, electric pain.

 

And everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

She came to on a cold, stone floor. She knew where she was, having put a few people down in these dungeons herself. Vos was nowhere to be seen, but Dooku sat perfectly poised on a chair in the small corridor outside of her cell.

 

“My dear Asajj, you’ve grown sloppy in your time with the Jedi,” he said disapprovingly, as though he hadn’t once tried to have her killed and she was once again his apprentice. Anger and hate, hot and sharp, flared in her at seeing him again, at being bested by him again.

 

Standing, she deliberately took her time dusting herself off and working the kinks out of her neck and shoulders. It was as if her time around Vos had been helping to prepare her for this, for dealing with someone who was not just irritating but knew how to hit every button that would set her off. So, she decided that just because she was in a cell was no reason to act like it.

 

“I notice I’m not dead. If I’ve grown sloppy, you’ve become sentimental. Very unlike you,” she said archly, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She kept a smile off her face, but felt a little crow of triumph at being able to shoot back.

 

“Do not presume that because you are alive that you will remain so. The Shadow, and I presume he was a Shadow, escaped. I cannot say if he will try to rescue you or not. Shadows were never known for their predictability. Some might leave you to your fate, others might stupidly attempt gallantry,” he said, clearly trying to spook her.

 

It wasn’t working, because she was distracted by the puzzle of why she was alive at all. She thought about it as though from a great distance, looking at all the pieces. It was easier to keep herself from making mistakes, well, more mistakes, if she didn’t get lost in the fact that she was at his mercy again.

 

“You’re keeping me as bait,” she said, and he smiled.

 

“Well done, Asajj. It’s good to know that you still have a devious mind. Yes, you are bait. I doubt you know much of what the Council is after, but the Shadow. Oh, he will know. Certainly, you both came here to kill me, ah, the delightful hypocrisy of the Jedi,” he drawled, and she knew that tone. He couldn’t help himself when it came to raging about the Jedi. “They espouse that they respect all life, but when needs must, they are as ruthless as any other, willing to send murders to get their own way. Send the tool and their hands remain clean, ha! As though by using another’s hand, it was any less their decision.”

 

Then he sighed and shook his head, as if clearing it of his excess rage. Dooku kept his rage at a perfect simmer, but something was different about it now. Something she could detect only because she had known him so well.

 

“I do hope he comes for you, because I have so many questions for him,” Dooku said, once again appearing as controlled as ever. But it was an appearance only. Dooku was on edge. Something preyed on his mind.

 

She might be able to complete the mission objective after all. If he believed her, that is.

 

“We weren’t here to kill you,” she said bluntly. Then she paused and cocked her head to the side, considering her next works. “Kidnap you if we could, but not kill you.”

 

“Kidnap me? My dear, do me the courtesy of recalling that I am not stupid,” he said sharply. “Besides the fact that I would be most difficult to maintain as a captive, to what end would this kidnapping have been? Remove me from the leadership of the Confederacy? Or to deliver me to someone who would attempt to question and torture me? As though _I_ would break?” He sorted, his distain almost palpable.

 

“To talk,” she said softly. “Yoda wanted to talk with you.”

 

“That _troll_ wanted to talk? Now? After everything? After all this time? No, I do not believe you!” he declared, standing up quickly, knocking over the chair he had been perched on. She leaned forward, getting as close as she dared to the force field, and smiled.

 

“Oh, I think you do,” she drawled, and he gathered up his cloak around him, walking off in a huff. Straightening, she watched him go, and turned over the possibilities in her mind.

 

The mission could still be completed, though it would require a gamble.

 

And the cooperation of Quinlan Vos.

 

* * *

 

How long she sat and meditated in that cell, she couldn’t be certain. Less than a day, but without any view to the outside world, one never could be sure. However, she was now certain it was night, as she felt a ripple along her Force senses. Vos had arrived, and he let just enough of his presence show, perhaps in some strange effort to reassure her.

 

She opened her eyes and saw him sitting back on his heels just on the other side of the force field.

 

“Time to go, darlin’,” he said, and of course it would have been too much to ask for him to actually use her name.

 

“You go,” she said, “I can still complete the mission.”

 

“Come on, you’ve only been around Kenobi for a few months. No way his particular brand of self-sacrifice has rubbed off on you yet, unless other things are…” he trailed off suggestively.

 

“I do wonder why you worry so much about what Kenobi rubs, Vos,” she said, and was pleased to see his startled reaction. She kept talking before they could start sniping at each other. “But I intend to stay. I was able to get under Dooku’s skin. Just a little. If I can make him doubt, then he will have to see for himself. He knows me, Vos, but I know him.”

 

He looked at her then, really looked at her for perhaps the first time. She matched him, stare for stare. Then he shrugged.

 

“I’ll stick around in the city, keep an eye on things for a while, but if you take too long, I’ll report you lost,” he said.

 

“Good,” she said, and closed her eyes, considering the matter closed. She heard him stand and felt his presence entirely disappear. Then he walked so softly she couldn’t hear him, and she was once again alone.

 

She had been alone most of her life, she knew. Her time with Dooku had not been a supportive experience, to put it mildly. But she was learning that there was a difference between being alone and being without support. Vos was right. After only a few months around Kenobi, she was changing. Not into some sap or some self-sacrificing idiot. No. She knew why she was doing this, even if Vos couldn’t fathom it.

 

There was no beating Dooku at his own game.

 

Instead, she would make him play _her_ game, a game of her own devising that she made up as she went, where there was only one goal. Make him see that he was exactly as righteous as the Jedi.

 

That is to say, not at all.

 

It would be a most satisfying victory, that.

 

* * *

 

It started slow at first. He would only visit her occasionally, sometimes trying to cow her into submission after attempting to starve her out, or other times trying to buy her good will with food and talk of how she could be welcomed back, made his apprentice once more.

 

She paid attention to neither.

 

If there was food, she would eat it. If there was none, she could cope.

 

Threats and promises were equally ignored.

 

She was not the ball of rage and hate that he remembered. She could not be controlled as easily as she once had been.

 

And Dooku had always wanted to maintain control. When confronted with someone he could not control, he did one of two things: he killed them or he broke them down, took them apart, found out what make them work, and then made it work for him. But she kept her mind like water, always moving underneath but still on the surface. He was losing patience.

 

“Why you persist in this fiction that the Jedi wish to speak to me?” he asked, his temper getting the better of him for once as his voice was nearly a shout.

 

“It is not a fiction. Besides, if you actually thought it was a fiction, I would be dead by now. Dead and you would have told _your_ Master,” she said, and he blinked. As tells went, it was slim, but it was all she had.

 

“Ah, so you haven’t told him you’re holding your former assassin prisoner. I imagine he would have had me killed right away, but you have waited too long now. Now, informing him would risk his… displeasure,” she said, drawing the last word out slowly. Throwing that in his face, that he was beholden to another, dug deep into his pride and scored a mark.

 

He said nothing as she went on, digging around with her verbal knife for the right spot.

 

“It’s what you’ve wanted for _years_ , to finally have it out with your first master, the one who abandoned you. As you abandoned me,” she said, and another blink. Something was preying on his mind, and not just her words. Something must be going on in the war to make him doubt his place in the galaxy.

 

“Oh yes, you claim the Jedi are really morally bankrupt, that they do not care for anything but their Code and their honor, but are you really so different, Dooku? When you have twisted yourself around and inside out for a master who would throw you away without a second thought,” she continued, and his face became like a thundercloud. She was pushing her luck, but there was no stopping this momentum.

 

“Because I know. I heard it, once, how the Sith Lord is interested in the Skywalker boy. His sheer power must be so tempting for your master. But if he has the boy, what use are you?” she asked, and she saw Dooku’s fists clench. Then one hand rose sharply in a claw as he began to choke her.

 

But she had been ready for that, as she had not been last time, and she lashed out with her own power. It was confined to the room, Dooku had built in Force dampening technology, but as she let out a scream powered by the Force, the harmonics were enough to break his concentration. Dropping heavily to the floor as he let her go, she glared at him with the one thing he could not stand: pity.

 

“You are pathetic, Dooku. An old man held on a leash, only a place holder until a younger, more powerful dog takes your place. You lose control so easily now, and you think you will survive what your master has in store for you?” she snarled. With a roar, he turned off the force field and stepped into her cell, calling on the Force again to slam her up against the far wall and pin her there. Rather than panic or struggle against the hold, she kept on his weakest point: his pride.

 

“Look at you, look at where you are and what you have become, and tell me that this is why you left the Jedi,” she said calmly, clearly, pale grey eyes boring into his dark brown. For a moment, they started into each other’s eyes, and then just as suddenly as his rage had come upon him, he banished it. She dropped to the floor again.

 

“There is some truth in what you say, Asajj,” he said, his voice measured and sonorous once more. “But I have come too far on this path now to turn back.”

 

“The path you chose or the path that you were set on?” she asked, levering herself to her feet and looking up at him. “I would know a thing or two about that.”

 

A beat.

 

“Yes. You would,” he agreed.

 

Another beat.

 

“If this is a trap, you will die,” he said and left, leaving her cell open behind him.

 

Asajj Ventress, former Sith assassin, former slave, former so many things, stood tall because she had done what she had set out to do. She had bested Count Dooku, not in a physical contest, but in a battle of wills. Perhaps later they could settle the score in other ways, but for now, she would let her victory wrap around her like the warmth of a sun.

 

Even better, she didn’t have to give away that she was learning the vaapad. That could be her own little surprise, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the interest of drama, this is all we're getting from Asajj for a while. Can't be giving all the fun away, now can I?
> 
> Also, I always thought Dark Disciple was dumb, and that Dooku was way more conflicted about how things went down with Asajj than people gave him credit for. If only because that's more interesting than other options.


	3. Remembrance

Obi-Wan sat in his rooms on the _Negotiator_ , talking with Mace Windu via holocomm.

 

He had just returned from more saber practice. He had moved through the kata with grace and precision, saber cutting through the air with a low hum. Sweat had dripped down his hair and into his beard, making them bore dirty than blond. Practice, he knew, would make perfect, and after his encounter with the Sith Lord, he was more determined than ever before to stand between that… _creature_ and anyone it wished to hurt.

 

He was in little mood to talk with Mace Windu, especially after the other man had dangled Dooku in front of Ventress in order to get her to further the Council’s agenda there. For all that he was able to throw himself into the pit of vipers, asking others to do so had always been difficult. This war had been changing that, and it was one of the many, many things he regretted about it.

 

“You urge me on, bribe me more like, with the chance to free Mandalore, to do the _right_ thing, the thing I wanted to do from the first, Mace. You do this, however, without understanding anything about Mandalorians. If we land, we will not be fighting just those who follow Maul, but their families as well. You know what happens when Mandalore’s leadership is divided. The world burns, and I will not set it alight,” he said slowly, carefully, keeping at bay the urge to yell at the man.

 

“How you accomplish the task is up you, Obi-Wan,” Mace said, the other man’s dark eyes and face inscrutable as ever. “But know that if you still believe it important to go back and aid Mandalore, now would be a very opportune time to do so.”

 

Obi-Wan frowned and stroked his beard, waiting a beat before replying.

 

“I will think on it, Mace, that is all I can say at the moment,” he said, and cut the comm before elder Jedi could reply. Respectful, no. Cathartic, oh very much yes. Also, childish, he reminded himself. Sighing, he sat back, staring at the empty viewer screen and turned his mind over to the issue at hand.

 

To return to Mandalore or not.

 

To possibly be party to setting Mandalore on fire, or not.

 

Was he a man of vengeance or justice, at the end?

 

Or, perhaps, was there another way?

 

* * *

 

The _Negotiator_ jumped into the very edges of the Mandalore sector, and Obi-Wan could just see the light of the local star out of the viewport. Cody stood at his right shoulder, while the Admiral conferred with Nav and Comm. The man looked back at Obi-Wan, a doubtful look on his face, but this was a Council-sanctioned mission. Of a sort. With only two men.

 

With a nod to the command crew, Obi-Wan beat a path to the hangar bay, Cody following close behind. The other man had listened patiently as Obi-Wan had described his idea, nodded once, and declared in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t letting his general go planetside alone. Once, not that long ago, Obi-Wan would have ordered the man to stay put, to command the _Negotiator_. But he remembered what happened last time he had gone to Mandalore alone _._

 

In the bay, his personal ship waited, and he leapt into the cockpit. Cody climbed up the ladder easily, swinging himself into the gunner seat with a grunt that Obi-Wan knew was trooper code for: _damned Jedi leaping about all over the place._ It made the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth turn up a in a little grin, in spite of the heavy weight of the task before him. Flipping on the comms, he called up to the bridge.

 

“Begin your run, if you would, Admiral,” Obi-Wan said, and he heard the ships engines thrum to life.

 

“Yes sir, the bay doors opening will be your signal,” the man said, and then it began. Obi-Wan breathed out, closing his eyes, letting the Force fill his senses. He could feel the life around him on the ship, the even, durable presence of Cody behind him, and in the distance the bright spots of Mandalore and her satellites. They were approaching fast, and as the large ship swung around, Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open just as the hangar bay doors began to part.

 

He powered up the fighter, the engines bursting into life, and then he shot out into the dark of space, hanging over the beautiful jewel of a planet for just a moment. Below them it was blue and perfect, without an indication of the horror and violence that the planet had steeped in for centuries. From here, he could see Satine’s vision for her home. A vision he could hopefully resurrect, and perhaps in some way, in so doing, keep alive a small measure of the woman he loved.

 

“Sir?” Cody asked softly, breaking into his thoughts. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply.

 

“Just getting the timing right,” he said, though he knew that Cody was not convinced. The man knew him too well. Ducking under the body of the _Negotiator_ , Obi-Wan used the sheer mass of the ship to cover his approach in the small craft. He turned the nose down and headed for the last known coordinates of Bo-Katan.

 

* * *

 

Previously, Bo-Katan had been hiding in the polar region, but he knew she would not stay put for long. Her survival depended upon being unpredictable, in tactics and location. That said, she also needed a way for loyal Mandalorians to get in contact with her, otherwise none would be able to rally to the cause of freeing the planet from Maul.

 

It was a dangerous balance, and he was certain that she would be impossible to find for anyone not well-versed in Mandalorian tactics. But Obi-Wan had spent a long time with a Mandalorian on the run. He knew their tricks. Even better, he knew things about House Kryze that few outside the clan did.

 

Obi-Wan brought his personal craft down low over the trees of the forest, skimming their tops. He had all but dived straight for the planet’s surface, so as to appear as small as possible on sensors, only pulling up at the last second to avoid a fatal crash. Cody’s singular reaction had been a satisfied grunt, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that stoicism was a legacy of Fett or trained. Either way, they were now touching down in a small clearing, largely intact with no indication that they had been spotted.

 

Now that they were on the planet, Obi-Wan forwent using the Force, and climbed down from the ship. For a moment, he let himself breathe and take in a sense of the planet. This should be fairly safe, he hoped, as Maul was rather far away from their present location, provided he was in Sundari. Regardless, he simply opened his mind and allowed the Force to flow around and through him.

 

He did not like what he found.

 

Mandalore had never been peaceful to a Jedi’s senses. Too much blood and strife had occurred on this planet for that to be the case. But now there was a dark desperation to the planet, a struggle that cut to the heart of Mandalore. A struggle between honor and power, where any Mandalorian would value both, and both were being twisted around and turned inwards to serve another’s purpose.

 

Mandalorians were not an evil people. But they were proud, war-like, held honor as sacred, and valued glory in battle nearly above all other things. It had the makings of evil, a focus on the self as opposed to the whole. And now, it was being used for such things, to feed one man’s madness.

 

A man who had survived the impossible by living on his own need for revenge.

 

“Sir?” Cody asked, voice quiet, his hand reaching out but not touching. Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open and he looked at his commander’s face for a moment, and just for a moment saw an unexpectedly deep concern there. Obi-Wan breathed out slowly, and gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

 

“Nothing to be worried about, Cody,” he said easily, “I’m quite alright. The Force is simply very dark here. It was to be expected.” The trooper gave him a long, level look and decided to accept that answer.

 

“Very good, sir,” he said, nodding sharply before he turned to continue to unpack their equipment. Obi-Wan joined him as they unrolled the tarp that would cover the small craft, hiding it from aerial detection.

 

“You know, Cody, you probably should stop calling me ‘sir’ while we’re here. Being too military, even on Mandalore in a time of civil war will get us noticed. They’ll wonder what side we’re on,” Obi-Wan explained. Cody grimaced.

 

“Don’t think calling you… _Obi-Wan_ , is going to go well either, s—,” he began to stay, then stopped himself and sighed. “And it’s a hard habit to break.”

 

“Rex seems to manage,” Obi-Wan teased as they finished tamping down the pegs to hold the tarp steady. That comment was rewarded with an eye-roll that was somewhere halfway between exasperated and fond.

 

“Rex had to adapt to General Skywalker and Commander Tano. She even gave him a nickname!” Cody said, shaking his head at the unprofessionalism of it all. Obi-Wan chuckled, and found that he was glad he had been able to draw out his normally stoic commander. They continued to go through their supplies, stowing away any and all gear that would give them away as the Jedi and trooper they were. The only concessions were Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and Cody’s blasters. Otherwise, they were dressed as rural Mandalorians, in heavy canvas pants with similar shirts and jerkins, designed to allow the wearer to go through all sorts of terrain without too much worry about the weather.

 

“But if that’s how it’s to be, what should I call you?” Cody asked. They slung on their packs, mostly filled with food, ammunition, and survival gear. Standard for Mandalore.

 

“Ben,” Obi-Wan said almost automatically. Satine had called him that, long ago. _My dear Ben_ , she had said, as they parted, and she not said the words that would have made him stay by her side.

 

“Alright then… Ben,” Cody said, with only a slightly uncertain pause. “Lead on _._ ”

 

* * *

 

Cody was a trooper, a command trooper to boot, and even he didn’t know the protocols his general used to find the Mandalorians he was after. Every now and again they would stop, seemingly at random, and General Kenobi ( _no, Ben_ , he corrected himself, as if that wasn’t a strange thing to get used to), would fiddle with some old fashioned looking equipment, listen to what sounded like static, then fold it all back up and they’d be off again.

 

Clearly, they were going somewhere with a keen sense of purpose, and Cody knew better than to ask after how the other man knew all these old Mando secrets. That just left Cody with the job of doing all the paying attention necessary when looking after a Jedi in the field. A lot of it was keeping an eye and ear out for trouble while Ben used the old signaling equipment, but more of it was watching his Jedi for signs of trouble. Too long pauses or vague stares were chief contenders for a Jedi too deep in thought or the Force.

 

But aside from that little lapse just after they landed, Ben had been fine, for want of a better word.

 

They had just stopped again, Ben bent over the dials and listening as Cody kept watch. Then the other man looked up at him and grinned.

 

“I’d say not long now, Cody,” he said. Cody let his eyebrow quirk upwards in a question, but otherwise kept his gaze on the trees that surrounded them.

 

“Why do you say that, Ben?” he asked, the name feeling strange in his mouth, but it was certainly easier to say that than the man’s actual name.

 

“Because they’re headed right for us,” he said lightly, and gestured for Cody to sit. Cody gave his general a sharp look, one he only used in rare instances when the man had been unusually obstinate or otherwise risked himself too much. He saved it for special occasions, of which this was certainly one.

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. This is the whole idea. Better for them to find us than us to find them, I assure you. Bo would not take it well if we sauntered into her camp without forewarning. This way, her troopers can feel good about themselves,” he explained. Cody remained standing, but he let the look dissipate.

 

“You know you could have just told me that’s what the plan was, right?” he asked, for once actually giving voice to some of his frustrations. But then it was just the two of them out here right now. No other brothers to look after, no regs, just two men trying to right an old wrong. That could explain the lapse, Cody thought.

 

He was somewhat satisfied to see a small amount of self-referencing shock on Ben’s face.

 

“You’re quite right, Cody, and I do apologize,” he said, and then it was Cody’s turn to be uncomfortable. He shrugged and was about to reply, but then he noticed some movement in the trees.

 

“They’re here,” he said in a tight whisper.

 

“Ah, most excellent, I do so hate to be kept waiting,” Ben said, standing fluidly and turning to face the leader who stalked through the trees like an angry bantha. The woman tore of her helmet and glared at the Jedi, her green eyes flashing with anger.

 

“You better be here to tell me that half a dozen war ships are about to show up and blast Sundari and Maul off the map,” the woman said harshly. Ben shook his head sadly.

 

“Just us, I’m afraid,” he began to say, but the woman started cursing. Cody kept his face blank, not wanting to give away how much of the language he actually knew.

 

“Just you? You and a piss-poor copy of a Mando?” the woman asked. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? To get us all killed?”

 

“No, Bo,” Kenobi said softly, and Cody watched the woman’s face close off as he used her name. Cody filed the information away, and let the piss-poor copy comment pass. He had been called worse. “I’m here to stop the killing.”

 

“Now you sound like _her_ ,” Bo-Katan said, with an edge of harshness tempered by a sorrowful loss. Underneath.

 

“I’m not so gracious or wise, Bo, but I can help. I… I made this mess, or allowed this mess to be. It is mine to clean up,” Kenobi said, and he and Bo stared at each other for a few moments. Now that Cody was certain Bo-Katan wasn’t about to actually attack his general, Cody more properly took in the men and women who had come with her. They were at ease, but that ease that could turn to deadly violence with a moment’s notice. Professionals, then, and Cody felt comforted by that. They wouldn’t fire on accident, at least.

 

Bo huffed and turned away from Kenobi.

 

“Very well. You may come back to our camp, but you have yet to convince me that I should allow you to stay beyond the night,” the woman said, and it had all the edges of a threat, but a core of, perhaps, hope.

 

Without another word, Bo-Katan headed out while her followers formed a ring around his general and himself, and they were lead through the woods to the safety of a single night’s hospitality on Mandalore.

 

It was, Cody thought, one of the more precarious places he had ever been.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sat across from Bo-Katan Kryze in a camp chair, Cody standing at his right, opposite a young woman he did not know, standing at Bo’s right. Apparently, his commander felt that some kind of appearances had to be kept up.

 

“So… Ben,” Bo said, using the name he had supplied. She was willing to work with him, but the name Kenobi would bring him all sorts of trouble in the middle of a camp such as this. Trouble they all needed to avoid if Maul was to be handled quickly. “What’s the plan?”

 

Leaning back, he looked at Bo, really _looked_ at her, and knew more than she would have liked, he thought. She was tired, they were all tired. They were on short rations, and they were on the run. Things were not going well for Mandalore’s would be freedom fighters.

 

“Why don’t you update me on the situation here, and then we can talk about our next steps,” he offered, and he saw the young woman at Bo’s right tense. She was a broad-featured woman, with dark eyes and hair, likely from an unrelated house.

 

“It’s a reasonable ask, Ursa,” Bo said to the woman, who breathed out slowly. “If Ben is to be of any use, we must be honest.”

 

“But who is he that we should honor him so? While my family live in fear?” the woman challenged. Bo pursed her lips and regarded him for a long moment, and in that was an expression Obi-Wan had known well, once. Bo and Satine were as unalike as two sisters could be in many ways. But now, with the mantle of leadership on her shoulders, Bo was learning to look at people as Satine looked at people. Less intent on reputation, but on worth, worthiness, the only source of any honor that meant anything.

 

“Someone who cares for Mandalore, and does not want to see a dream die, if I don’t miss my mark,” Bo-Katan said at last. The woman Ursa grunted in disbelief, but did not make any further comments. Then Bo told him, told him how she had tried to rally others to her cause, how she had led them out into the forests and though the hidden valleys that no outsider could know. But Maul was powerful, and power alone had always been enough for some to betray their own.

 

Mandalore was dying, was what she said without saying it. Dying by inches, but dying all the same.

 

“Thank you, Bo, I know that cannot have been easy to say to someone… such as myself,” he said, and she dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement. Ursa’s dark eyes were marginally less stony for that. “I do, however, have one question.”

 

“Ask it, Ben, though I can’t guarantee an answer,” Bo said.

 

“Where is Korkie Kryze?”

 

* * *

 

Cody followed Ben (and it was becoming strangely easy to think of him as _Ben_ , instead of _General Kenobi_ , _my general_ , or even _my Jedi_ ) as they once again tramped through the forest. This time, headed in a completely different direction.

 

They had a general heading, a hope, and a stern warning from Bo-Katan to not bring her nephew to her unless he was prepared to fight for Mandalore like a proper warrior. Her words. Ben had merely regarded the woman calmly and thanked her for her hospitality.

 

Now they were looking for another Kryze in all of this mess, the nephew of Bo-Katan and the Duchess. Son of their dead brother, Cody thought he recalled. The Duchess had taken him in, Bo-Katan not being terribly maternal herself. Cody wasn’t sure what to think about any of it, just that somehow in spite of being a lab-grown clone and having three million brothers, he clearly had an easier ‘family life’ such as it was, than an actual Mandalorian.

 

“I can hear you thinking, Cody,” Ben said, his cultured voice taking on a light, teasing tone.

 

“Ah, but you can’t tell _what_ I’m thinking. Besides, it’s not much. Just thinking that these folks make family all sorts of complicated,” he answered the unasked question. Ben did that sometimes. Asked questions without asking at all. Giving someone openings to talk.

 

Ben laughed, a low, dry kind of laugh.

 

“You’re not wrong. No, not wrong at all. But if we are quick and clever, here, we might actually manage this,” Ben said, half to himself Cody thought.

 

“You’re saying we unite one family, for just long enough, and that’s all it takes?” Cody asked. “I was trained by Mandalorian mercs, but even I know that’s a bit far-fetched. They won’t stop fighting, not if you force them to.”

 

“I don’t intend to force anyone to do anything,” Ben said.

 

“Then what do you intend?” Cody asked, and then Ben stopped, turning to face him. There was a hard smile on his face, the kind of smile he had right before some Seppies were turned into scrap metal.

 

“That they should _remember_ ,” Ben said, a light in his blue eyes, and Cody felt his heart leap at the way Ben said it. Cody was no Mando, no _Mando’ad_ for true. But he had been trained by men, and a few women, who were. They had taught the _vod’e_ what it was to _remember_ , to not _forget_. Because if they forgot, then death was final.

 

What Ben wanted these people to remember, Cody had a fairly good idea. So he didn’t ask. It was better that way.

 

And they would be nearing the other Kryze camp soon, so now was a good a time as any to stay quiet.

 

* * *

 

Korkie Kryze, unlike his aunt, had opted for a different strategy. One that, had Satine been alive, she would have been so proud. As it was, the young man had to settle for Obi-Wan looking at him with a fierce kind of pride as he greeted them in the middle of what was, essentially, a refugee camp. Not all people on Mandalore were warriors. There were techs and farmers and merchants and all sorts of people who knew how to fire a weapon as a matter of cultural pride, but were not conditioned, physically or psychologically, to fly at the enemy on jetpacks and blow them up.

 

Bo-Katan thought of taking back Mandalore. Korkie thought of protecting its most vulnerable people.

 

“It is good to finally meet you… sir,” Korkie said, settling on a non-descript title for now. “My aunt, the Duchess, she… she spoke of you occasionally.”

 

“Did she now?” Obi-Wan asked, in spite of himself, his eyebrows rising almost of their own volition. Korkie smiled sadly.

 

“Only on occasion, and I was never sure if she liked you or not. Though I do believe she respected you,” the young man said.

 

“That seems about correct, yes. And you may call me ‘Ben’, if you like,” Obi-Wan said, and Korkie nodded. Then he took in Cody, standing at his right, and frowned a little.

 

“You are perfectly safe here, you know. The people here are not violent, in so far as one can say that of any Mandalorian in these times,” Korkie said. “But come on, let’s get somewhere sheltered. This is no fit reception for you.”

 

They were led through the sprawling camp, so different to the one under Bo-Katan. It was still regimented, but instead of tight discipline, people were here with their families, and children mostly laughed and played.   A few watched him and Cody walk by with too large, too knowing eyes. Eyes that Satine had spent years hoping to never see again on Mandalore.

 

They were led to a low tent, just large enough to accommodate a few camp chairs and a cot. If anything it was even more spare than the inside of Bo-Katan’s tent. The young man gestured for them both to sit, and Obi-Wan was glad to see that Cody felt at ease enough to do so. Perhaps it was simply a lack of opposite number.

 

“So, why are you here, Ben?” Korkie asked as he poured them both cups of water. Obi-Wan drank gratefully, as did Cody, and the young man sat down opposite them. He was a gangly youth, still, with too long legs and a narrow set to his shoulders yet. But in his eyes, Obi-Wan could see the knowledge of war and death there. A proper Mando, some might say. Or a tragedy of war.

 

“To clean up a mess of my own. Perhaps it is not my making, but it certainly has been persistent,” Obi-Wan said, and Korkie breathed out slowly.

 

“You’ve been to see my aunt, I take it,” Korkie stated, that question that wasn’t a question. Obi-Wan used the tactic himself, and he knew who had taught to the boy. As she had taught him, long ago.

 

“Yes, and for a wonder she agrees with me,” Obi-Wan said. “Mandalore can be freed, but only if Mandalorians stand together.”

 

“What would my aunt have me do? Arm people who have never been to war? Let them be slaughtered for honor? For glory? What is honor and glory if the crops rot in the fields and the production lines gather dust?” Korkie challenged, all the fire and passion of a Mandalorian focused not on war but on _life_.

 

“I saw warriors in your camp. And I know for a fact Bo-Katan does not command all Mandalorians capable of fighting. There are some, believe it or not, who would follow _you_ , Korkie,” Obi-Wan said. “Neither of you will sway those who gave themselves over to Maul, but there are others. Others who saw the wisdom of Satine’s path, but who stayed sharp to defend it. Or those who simply will never trust a former member of Death Watch.”

 

Korkie glared at him for a long moment, then sighed, holding his head in his hands. Obi-Wan saw, briefly, in the young man’s eyes that he had known that he had allies. Known and had not called them to rally to his cause. He was too young, too young for the burden that had landed on his still-slim shoulders. But he was no older than Satine had been, when she had set out to change a people. There had been a strength in her, and as Korkie shook himself back from whatever brink he had been approaching and sat up again, it was a strength Obi-Wan saw in the nephew as well.

 

“You say you’re here only for _him_ , then?” Korkie asked. “After he’s handled, you will leave and let Mandalore heal?”

 

“It’s why I am here with just my friend,” Obi-Wan said, indicating Cody. Cody dipped his head to the boy, and Obi-Wan saw respect in his commander’s eyes. Cody did not give such respect lightly. It was _earned_ , but if Cody liked what he saw in Korkie, then Obi-Wan knew he had been right about the boy.

 

“My ship is in the system, but staying out of sight. Maul must know by now a Republic cruiser is nearby, but my men are some of the best. They will ensure he does not know it is me,” Obi-Wan continued.

 

“Couldn’t he just guess? Who else would come for us?” Korkie asked dryly. “Mandalore has few friends.”

 

“Certainly he could, but he does not know, and we have been swift. I believe we might just have been swift enough,” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to reassure the young man. Korkie looked as though he was letting himself be reassured. Then he squared his shoulders.

 

“Very well, I will meet with my aunt,” Korkie said. “I will also put the word out. Mandalore rises tomorrow night, or never again.”

 

* * *

 

They had gathered in the low hills outside of Sundari, a city of spires, beautiful clear durasteel reflecting the light of Mandalore’s sun, glittering during the day and luminescent at night. Obi-Wan stood at the precise center between the two camps, between Bo-Katan’s reformed Death Watch, and Korkie’s defenders of Satine’s dream. They were not pacifists exactly, more men and women who were committed to fighting so that others did not have to. Satine would have thought it ironic and tragic and not what she wanted at all. But he was what he was, and he saw no other way.

 

And perhaps, Mandalore did need to find a way to walk its own line, to find a way to retain its identity without the planet being covered in the blood of its people. Or without turning into a conqueror once again.

 

Korkie stood to his left, and they waited for Bo.

 

Cody had taken up a position, not to the right of Obi-Wan has he had done, but back a ways, able to watch over as much as he could. The man wasn’t a natural sniper, but he could hold his own. They would need cover as they took the city.

 

Bo-Katan emerged from the stand of trees to his right, alone, as Korkie was alone. He knew that had likely caused some argument, and perhaps a brawl. With Mandalorians the concepts were interchangeable. Her eyes flicked to Cody in his position, and she nodded her approval. Then she glanced at Obi-Wan, eyes grim. Then she looked at Korkie, and for the first time, Obi-Wan saw actual warmth in her normally hard green eyes.

 

“It’s good to see you, _vod’ad_ ,” she said, the warmth spreading her to voice as well.

 

“And you, _ba’vodu_ ,” Korkie returned. “There will be much to talk about after we retake Sundari.”

 

“So you really think we can do this? You really trust _him_?” she asked, jerking her head in Obi-Wan’s direction. Obi-Wan wisely stayed silent. Besides, Bo-Katan’s baseline attitude toward him had begun to amuse him, darkly, with its continuity.

 

“I trust Ben to do right by us, as no other off-worlder would,” Korkie said, voice measured and calm, an echo of Satine in his voice and eyes. “And you do as well, Bo, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

 

Bo’s grin was sharp and grim, with an edge of pride to it.

 

“You see well, like an _alor_ , Korkie,” she said, and Korkie ducked his head in acknowledgement. “I think between us we can hold Mandalore together, to give us all time to recover.”

 

“We will both need to compromise, if Mandalore is to thrive, not just survive,” Korkie said. Bo snorted, but did not disagree.

 

“That is for later. Are you satisfied, _Ben_?” she asked, eyebrow arching.

 

“It’s not for me to say, Bo. Are you? Are both of you?” he asked in return. “I brought you together. It is up to you to do the rest. I will head directly for the palace. How you handle your people is up to you.”

 

“They are not our people, they betrayed Mandalore,” Bo all but spat.

 

“You’re wrong, _ba’vodu_ , they are all our people,” Korkie said, and Bo looked at him again, with a new kind of respect. She smiled.

 

“ _Alor_ indeed,” she half whispered. Then they both nodded to Obi-Wan. He glanced back at Cody, who ducked his head.

 

It was time.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan burst through the doors of the throne room. He and Cody had moved fast, faster than the Mandalorians had been able to keep up with. Cody had patched in to Bo and Korkie’s comm channels, keeping an ear out for the whole battle, feeding Obi-Wan reports as they had moved through the city. Cody had been given a jetpack to keep up with him, and they had kept high. Cody had sniped a few targets, clearing the way for the men and women coming up behind them, and had eventually found his way to the top of the palace. Cody said he would watch over the Mandalorians, give them a clear shot. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, had moved ever forward.

 

And now, now he saw Maul sitting on Satine’s throne. Waiting.

 

He had known.

 

Perhaps not right away, but once Sundari had come under attack, Maul had known. Known and waited for him. To come to him. A part of Obi-Wan’s mind was on fire, wanting to shout that Maul had never been worthy to be in her _presence_ , let alone to sit upon her throne. But he knew that was a desire for vengeance. This was not _revenge_ , he reminded himself. This was not for himself. This was for Mandalore, for her people, for Satine’s dream.

 

Maul stood, his metallic legs giving him a portion of the grace he had displayed on Naboo over ten years ago.

 

“Welcome, Kenobi. You faced me here once, and ran,” he said, his voice low and quiet, a harsh thing from all that he had been through.

 

Without a word, Obi-Wan ignited his saber.

 

Maul grinned, and twin red blades sprang to life.

 

The fight was quick and brutal and quiet. Just the hum and crackle of sabers, their feet ringing on the marble floor, his booted feet low and solid opposite the hard metallic ring of Maul’s legs. They flowed around each other, and Maul’s fury ratcheted higher and higher, and as it did so, Obi-Wan felt a calm surround him.

 

Satine had not been a Force sensitive, so he knew it was only his own memories, but would have sworn she was with him now. Her passion for peace, her calm in the face of danger, and those eyes that saw so much. The heart that had given its all for a people who only knew what they had when it was gone.

 

Maul became sloppy, his rage unable to sustain a killing edge, driving him into a fury. A fury of hope lost.

 

A swing too high, too high by a fraction, and Obi-Wan struck, his saber driving through Maul’s chest. The other man’s saber fell from his hand, clattering to the floor. Obi-Wan caught the man as he fell.

 

Yellow eyes looked up at him, eyes that had been filled with anger and hate, desperation and dark victory. And now… now Obi-Wan thought he saw peace there.

 

“Kill them all, Kenobi, all the Sith,” Maul croaked as he died. Then he smiled. A bloody smile as his lungs collapsed and heart fluttered. “Lost… my brother. Lost… myself. How… how…?” Maul’s eyes pleaded, needing to know something, to know how Obi-Wan could hold to hope in spite of everything. Could try again, not for himself, but for the sake of others.

 

But before he could answer, Maul died.

 

Obi-Wan closed the Dathomiri’s eyes, and stood. He placed Maul’s saber on his chest, and walked away. Outside the doors, Bo-Katan and Korkie stood, victorious over the Mandalorians who had turned to Maul’s service. Captured men kneeled in front of them.

 

Aunt and nephew were in an argument.

 

Obi-Wan, the Negotiator, solved it with the only way he could at the moment.

 

“Maul is dead,” he said quietly, and in that crowded square, his voice seemed to carry. He felt Cody ghost behind him, his hands holding his pistols, his sniper rifle stowed on his back.

 

“Then it is time for Mandalore to heal,” Korkie insisted, not taking his eyes off of his aunt.

 

“To wash away the stain of betrayal,” Bo-Katan countered. And they both turned to him.

 

“I did what I said I would do,” he said softly. “I attended to my business. This is the business of Mandalore, but I ask one thing. One thing only.” He drew a breath. “I ask that you know why Satine Kryze tried to make Mandalore pacifist, or tried to do so. You were too young to remember, Bo, you were taken into deep hiding while your sister rallied the clan. You only saw your sister abandon you, and her family. She did not do it for power or because she hated violence. She was a crack shot, though she would only touch stunners. Duchess Satine of Mandalore had one wish only: that no more children go without their families, that no more children stare with too knowing eyes, that children were allowed to grow up and _be children_. No more fires in the night, no more self-inflicted grief, no more blind hate disguised as honor. Ask yourself what _kind_ of Mandalore you want, all of you, and remember a woman who believed you could be greater than you had ever dreamed.”

 

The men and women in the square were silent. The prisoners were still on their knees unmoving, the loyal Mandalorians still held their weapons. And all eyes turned to aunt and nephew, to see if they would tear themselves apart at the moment of their freedom.

 

It would not be the first time Mandalorians had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

 

Then Bo-Katan took a deep breath, and said in a clear voice, “ _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_. Satine Kryze, my sister.”

 

She nodded to Korkie, and with that, Mandalore veered away from what Satine had called their shared madness.

 

“Join us, and you will be welcomed back with open arms,” Korkie said to the prisoners.

 

“And if we don’t?” one of them asked, their leader by the markings on his armor.

 

“Then you will be stripped of clan and titles. Exiled, but alive. Honorless, all knowing that you betrayed Mandalore to an _aruetii_. No one would aid you, only pity you. Because you did not _remember_ ,” Korkie said, staring the man down.

 

“My nephew and I are the last of House Kryze, the last claimants to the throne of Mandalore, and we shall work _together_ , to rebuild. All of us,” Bo called out to all assembled, her head high and proud.

 

“The road ahead will not be easy,” Korkie picked up where his aunt left off. “But we all must remember, remember who we are. Remember that mercy requires greater strength than revenge. Remember that we are _Mandalorians_ , and what honor requires, truly requires, is not glory but service.”

 

There was a cheer, and Obi-Wa nodded, satisfied. Satine was gone, but her dream had a chance to live again. He had done all he could for this battered, scarred world. Now, it was to them to find a way. He slipped away, Cody at his heels, but then he heard a voice behind him.

 

“Ben,” Korkie said, “thank you.”

 

Obi-Wan turned back, seeing Korkie standing there, and he hoped that the young man could see everything in his eyes that could not say. Korkie nodded in return and then returned to stand beside his remaining aunt. Bo-Katan smiled at her nephew, and then glanced over her shoulder at the man she had hated, hated he now knew because she thought he had taken Satine away from her all those years ago. A child’s hatred, burned away now. And she smiled.

 

He returned the expression, both of their smiles tinged with sadness, with regrets, and then Obi-Wan left Sundari.

 

* * *

 

Cody remained silent as they made their way back to their fighter. He took Ben’s lead, and was silent the whole trip back to the _Negotiator_. There was no report to file, no command to inform, which was likely how the Council wanted it. They had not been gone long enough to occasion comment, and for all the galaxy it looked like Mandalore had retaken itself. As long as no one noticed the saber hole in Maul’s body, it would be as if they had never been.

 

Still, Cody did not want to leave his general alone. Not until he knew the other man was steady.

 

And his general clearly knew what Cody was trying to do.

 

“You don’t need to hover, so, Cody,” the Jedi said, and Cody realized that now that they were back on the ship, he had stopped thinking of the man as _Ben_ , and back to _General_ and _Jedi_.

 

“With all due respect, sir,” Cody said, that _sir_ coming back as well. “It was a hard mission.”

 

“We’re alone, Cody, you can continue to call me Ben, if you like,” Obi-Wan offered, manner mild. Cody felt his eyebrow twitch. Cody sighed and sat across from the other man, in the general’s private bunk.

 

“Alright, then, _Ben_. How’re you holding up?” he asked bluntly, holding the other man’s blue gaze with his own dark brown eyes. Ben closed his eyes briefly, like how he did when he communed with the Force. Then he opened his eyes, looking into the middle distance for a moment before regarding Cody once again.

 

“I believe Satine might finally be at rest. Or, perhaps, I can lay her to rest now. Her family is safe, and Mandalore has a chance. It is more than they had before,” he said, and Cody nodded. He wondered how far this could go, asking blunt questions and actually getting answers, this new familiarity between them.

 

“Didn’t quite answer my question, you know,” Cody said dryly. The corners of Ben’s mouth twitched upwards at the comment.

 

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “I am… recovering, Cody. More than that, I cannot say. I hope to return one day, with my own name, if only to see how Korkie and Bo-Katan are getting on. But I will say…” he trailed off, and then breathed in, gathering himself to say something important. “Having you there with me Cody, it was…well, I thank you.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Cody said reflexively, then shook his head. “I mean, Ben. I mean.” Cody breathed out sharply through his nose, trying to say what he felt without having to actually say it. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Ben, then by your side. Not because I have to, not because they programmed me. But because… you’re you.”

 

“Oh my dear, Cody,” Ben said softly, half reaching out to him, but then Cody stood.

 

“I should go, sir,” he said quickly, wanting to be away. He had said too much, too much and the man didn’t need this on top of his own problems. Before the Jedi could do anything, Cody left. As he went through the ship, checking in with his men and the different teams, he tried to avoid thinking about what he had said to Ben. No, to _the general_. He had to think that way. Thinking differently would lead to far, far too many problems.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sat in his rooms, thinking about what Cody had said. Words that Cody had not meant to say, though he had certainly felt. Words Obi-Wan had never expected to hear, not ever again.

 

But they were not unwelcome, he decided.

 

However, he had much to do, a war to monitor if not get back to as such, the fighting in a strange lull. And he had many people to keep track of, not least of which were Anakin Skywalker and Asajj Ventress. They were certainly a worry, both never more so than now, though there was little he could do for either of them at present.

 

No, for now, Obi-Wan had his duties to return to, but perhaps, not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As cool as it would have been to have Ahsoka and Bo-Katan meet.... Mandalore has always been Obi-Wan's thing, and he never got closure there.
> 
> Now he has.
> 
> Also, the show dropped Korkie like a hot potato. Poor Korkie.


	4. Pas de Deux

“I have recently received a communication from Shaak Ti,” Mace said softly, as had become habit when speaking here in Yoda’s rooms with the assembled Masters who made up what he thought of as a kind of Shadow Council. Master Yoda dipped his head for Mace to continue, and the others, Adi, Vokara, and Tera gave him their attention.

 

“It seems she has enlisted outside assistance in uncovering the mystery of the creation of the clones. She did this on her own recognizance, I believe, after what happened with Trooper Fives came to her attention. She is not asking permission, I note, so much as informing us of what she has already done, and that said assistance is on the way,” Mace said, unable to keep the note of disapproval out of his voice. Such action was unlike her, who was usually measured in her responses, and he could only surmise that she felt a particular attachment to the men. It might serve them well in this instance, but old habits of thought died hard.

 

“Good,” Vokara said bluntly. “The more information I have on these chips, the better. I can’t produce a counter measure without more information, not with how they’re embedded in the very brain of these men. Worse, the positioning of the chips in the frontal lobe is clearly meant to shut down high order decision-making. They’ll become little better than droids once these… _things_ are activated.” Vokara made no effort to hide her distaste for these chips and what they would do to the troopers. All things considered, Mace could not fault the emotional display.

 

“Hm, trust in Master Ti, we must,” Yoda said evenly. “Cares for the men, she does. Endanger them without cause, she would not.”

 

* * *

 

Shaak Ti waited in her rooms on Kamino, meditating. She had left Corellia, travelling in secret back to Coruscant too late to meet with Ahsoka in person. She had wanted to, very much, speak privately with the young woman, but the war had other plans. Or, rather, one particular Senator.

 

At least, Shaak thought, that Senator Amidala did seem to have Ahsoka’s best interests at heart. A diplomatic mission would be good for the young Jedi in many ways, if only giving her a little more time to heal before taking the field of battle again.

 

Now, she waited on her contracted agent to arrive.

 

“General,” Hook said deferentially, and she opened her eyes to see him standing before her, shoulders square and expression guarded. It had been a delight to see him on Corellia, more open and free than he had ever been on Kamino. He had smiled and laughed like a normal young man. He had eyed the beautiful young women and tried all sorts of foods. Of course, the sweets were his favorite. He had called her _buir_ without hesitation when they were alone. Here, however, on this ocean world, he had retreated back into his contained professionalism.

 

He was young yet, and some of his elder brothers could look out at the world with an expression so blank as to be unnerving, but most _vod’e_ learned to keep their range of emotions narrow where any Kaminoan could observe. Which was nearly everywhere in Tipoca City.

 

“Yes, Hook?” she asked, rising from the low settee, her robes falling around her.

 

“I believe there is a visitor approaching the city,” he said. “I thought you might like to be notified.”

 

“Thank you, Hook, you thought correctly,” she said, and called her saber to her. In spite of the fact that they both full well knew who exactly was stepping off of a landing platform this very second, it wouldn’t do to let their roles slip. Even in private, and even though she scanned the room for spy devices twice a day in spite of Kaminoan assurances, it paid to be cautious. The lives of thousands of Jedi, millions of _vod’e_ , and billions of civilians were at stake.

 

“Now,” she continued, settling herself slightly. “Let us see if this guest is here for us or our hosts.”

 

“Yes, General,” Hook said, and followed her out the door. Now, it was time to play a very dangerous game, indeed.

 

* * *

 

Dani Faygan disembarked from her ship, her booted feet hitting the rain-slick platform as it rained on Kamino. Like it did most of the year, apparently. When she had agreed to this job, she had researched this place as much as she could. Master Ti had warned her that the records of Kamino had been deleted from the Jedi archives, but the archives of Corellia, though public, were not so trusting of the caretakers of information. She had found enough to disturb her about the place, and to seriously question the sanity of the Jedi Order for using the army at all.

 

The Senate, clearly, had an easy out for their stupid behavior. They were politicians, and politicians didn’t like inconvenient things like critical doubt or facts.

 

Still, she had a job to do. That the Jedi who had arrived on Corellia had peaked her interest had only a marginal amount to do with it. Dani, was nothing if not honest about herself. A pretty face went a long way for her, but Master Ti was much more than a pretty face, if that deep well of feeling Dani had felt there was any indication. As a Zeltron, well half Zeltron, she had an empathic resonance, the ability to sense and effect the emotions of others. Shaak Ti felt like no one else. Calm but deep, there was a passion in that heart Dani wouldn’t mind knowing.

 

Sighing, Dani approached the large doors, thankful for exactly one thing about her research. She was prepared for the weather. Pushing back her hood once under the arch before the doors, she let the camera get a good look at her face. It wasn’t a face that was known much outside of CorSec, her work unrecognized as a matter of necessity. Between her investigative work and the fast fingers of a slicer, a scan of her face would bring up exactly the record she wanted the Kaminoans to see.

 

It wasn’t long before the doors opened to reveal a Kaminoan.

 

“Miss Gelyar, how good of you to arrive so promptly. Please come in out of the rain. I am Tal Ka,” the being said in a soft, almost musical voice. Its eyes were large in its small face. Although the species wouldn’t be her cup of tea, she could admit a certain aesthetic about them. Tall, graceful, purposeful in their actions. But she could sense this one’s almost prideful emotional detachment underneath the soft appearance. It was like feeling a bad smell, that.

 

Dani entered the facility, giving the being a bright smile that was all training and no heart.

 

“Thank you very much, Tal Ka,” she said with all the chipperness she could muster. “Your prompt reception is most appreciated. My superiors did not exaggerate your thoughtfulness.”

 

“Of course, we are happy to receive an inquiry from the Corellian BioTechnical Concern,” Tal Ka said, bobbing its head slightly on its long neck, meant to be a show of deference, Dani thought. They began to walk along the hallway, Dani’s cloak dripping behind her as they wandered down a hallway.

 

“We have been evaluating your success with the cloning program for the Republic, and although the Five Brothers have exercised their option for neutrality in this war, not all interests feel that politics should come before economics,” Dani said ingratiatingly.

 

Then as they came around the bend in the hallway, she saw Shaak Ti with her aide, Hook, behind her. They were talking toward Dani and Tal Ka with an apparent lack of concern.

 

“Tal Ka,” Shaak said, her serene Jedi countenance in place. Even Dani had a hard time seeing past it. “We have a guest?”

 

“Yes, Master Ti,” the scientist said. “Miss Gelyar represents a potential new client, but do let me assure you that we will not allow taking on additional work to compromise the Clone Trooper program for the Republic.”

 

“Thank you, Tal Ka, your reassurance is most heartening,” the Jedi Master said, and then turned her large violet eyes to Dani. “Perhaps, if you have questions about being a client of the Kaminoans, you would be able to ask me. My name is Shaak Ti, and I oversee trooper training.”

 

Shaak bowed, and Dani dipped her head respectfully.

 

“Dani Gelyar,” Dani said, always finding it easy to use her real first name for undercover missions. Well, the shortened version of her real first name. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Ti.”

 

“Likewise, Miss Geylar,” the Togruta Jedi returned. Then they passed each other, and the dance had begun.

 

* * *

 

Shaak knew they had a limited amount of time. It would be suspicious if the Investigator stayed for more than a few days, which would be just long enough to take the necessary tours and meet various scientists. The young Zeltron had all the data Shaak had been able to give her, the data Fives had found but been able to obtain in hard copy. If they had substantial proof that every troopers was fitted with obedience and not aggression suppression chips, it would come in handy when the time came for a full Senatorial investigation. However, the first priority was trying to understand the chips better, to get access to the biotech specifications in order to find some way of disabling the damned things and save the sons of her heart.

 

The Togruta Master also had to pretend to cordial aloofness regarding the apparent visitor. This was difficult considering Shaak wanted nothing more than to know exactly what Dani Faygan was planning. But they had already established that the best way Shaak could help was to be a typical restrained Jedi, to only ensure and insist that the training and production of clone troopers not be unduly impacted by a new contract. The less interested Shaak appeared, the better she could serve as a distraction and misdirection for the Kaminoans.

 

It helped to think of this whole exercise as a long, stalking hunt. Their enemy was clever, paranoid, and on their own ground. The only way their prey would be caught out is if both women stuck to the plan exactly, as frustrating as that would be for a woman who wanted to go in for the kill.

 

Regardless, it was time to set things in motion, now that the Investigator had arrived.

 

Shaak Ti stood, her robes flowing around her as she strode through the corridors and went through her mental script for the sharp questioning she was about to unleash on the Kaminoans about their production facilities. Hopefully, she could keep them on the backfoot and tripping over themselves to reassure her of their continued commitment to the Republic cause to allow Dani the time to work.

 

* * *

 

Dani had been amused at the array of observation devices she had found in her quarters. They were impressive and state of the art. Supposedly, Shaak Ti had negotiated privacy for herself, based on her authority as a Jedi, but Dani had no such authority as an apparent mid-level agent of a biotech consortium. Granted, they hadn’t counted on her ability to deal with such devices. It would be bad if the devices were suddenly off, or on a loop, because eventually someone would notice. Instead, she had to get creative.

 

She liked getting creative.

 

First, she changed into her night clothes and made all the motions of getting ready to sleep. Then when she turned out the lights she set to recording a loop. Even if the cameras had night or heat vision capabilities, a loop of sleep was a lot more difficult to notice. Once the loop was completed, she triggered it in the systems and got a nice little affirmative beep for her trouble.

 

Then it was time to get to work. Still in the dark, she shucked out of her night clothes to reveal her infiltration suit underneath, and she slunk out of her room, quickly dashing to a maintenance access port and crawling inside. From there, she had to rely on her memorized map of the maze-like city of domes. Making her away through the cramped maintenance tunnels, Dani counted off the meters until she got to the embryo chambers, where Fives had discovered that all clones had chips. While helpful information, she bypassed it and headed for the strange blank spot she had noticed on the bluepints she had seen of this place.

 

Secret rooms were, by definition, difficult to find, but Dani had poured over the blueprints she had acquired, even calling in her boss to take a look. He had confirmed her suspicions. Behind the embryo chambers, there was a room that was very, very well hidden.

 

Hoping that her counting was correct, she made her way another few paces and found another maintenance access panel. Drawing a small metallic sphere out of a pouch on her belt, she carefully opened the panel and rolled the ball onto the floor. Then she called up a small holographic projection of the room. She maneuvered the device around the room and scanned the area.

 

She grinned.

 

There were no surveillance devices in the entire room. No detection devices. The Kaminoans likely relied on the sheer secrecy of the room to protect it. That, and their obsessive secrecy meant that they couldn’t risk anything in this room being recorded. With a bit more boldness than necessary, she opened the panel and walked through the room to the console that dominated the room, stooping to pick up her little spy sphere along the way.

 

For a moment, her fingers hovered over the keys, then she sighed and backed away. Just because accessing the room had been easy, didn’t mean the Kaminoans would leave this computer unprotected. It was likely on an isolated network, but it was also likely monitored for access. She had to make sure it looked like no one was doing anything in this room.

 

Another pocket, and she took out a slicer’s best friend and knelt down to attach it to the main body of the computer. Dani waited for a few tense moments while the device analyzed the electronic signals that were sent to and from this computer, and she frowned as it read out the answer: high speed variable pinging.

 

“Stang,” she breathed, knowing that the fast and ever changing ping rate would be difficult to work around. If the signals from this computer didn’t meet the expected rate and frequency, which was hard to duplicate because each ping held the data for the next, making them impossible to predict, it would trigger an alarm almost immediately.

 

The smart thing to do would be to back out of here, finish her cover operation and go back to Corellia. Work with a few slicers, get a better device, and cause a minimal amount of suspicion. But then she recalled Master Ti’s emotional state as she spoke about the troopers, how the Jedi Master had looked at Hook. Dani knew that look. It was the look of a parent to a beloved child.

 

Then she knew that she was about to be very, very stupid, because for all that they looked like men, she began to see them through Shaak Ti’s eyes.   And what she saw was a race of child soldiers who through no fault of their own were certainly going to be used to commit some kind of atrocity.

 

“Well, go big or don’t come to the party at all, right?” she asked herself softly, knelt again and fiddled with the slicer’s friend. It wouldn’t buy her a lot of time, but it might buy her just enough. Just enough time to save three million boys who were told they were men made to fight and die.

 

* * *

 

Shaak Ti stood, going down her list of concerns with Taun We, the assistant to the prime minister, when the comm on We’s desk came to life.

 

“Taun,” Lama Su said, “there has been a breach of security—”

 

“Forgive the interruption, sir, but I am with Master Ti,” We said, looking like she was going to regret speaking out of turn later. Shaak, for her part, did her best to look only mildly concerned, as a Jedi should. However, in the back of her mind, she cursed Dani Faygan and reckless behavior. She knew the Zeltron had done something to cause this, possibly ruining their one chance to help the troopers.

 

Su’s reaction was not what Ti expected, though.

 

“Ah, good. If our Master Jedi could help us apprehend the spy, certainly it would be most appreciated. Someone has accessed our sensitive files on the troopers, and we cannot let that information get away from us,” the prime minister said.

 

“Of course I will help. This is likely a Separatist move, looking for a way to disable our army,” she said, hoping that the idea would hold and that Dani would get away. If the young Zeltron was caught after Ti had suggested she was a spy, Dani would find her life suddenly very short.

 

“It’s the Zeltron that showed up today. She’s running through the facility trying to make it back to her ship,” Su said, a contained anger simmering underneath his words. “She should never have been allowed entry without more extensive checks.” We visibly winced at Su’s tone, but Shaak had little empathy to spare for her.

 

“I shall take up a position on the path to her ship,” Shaak said, taking the most likely choke point for Dani to go through. If she went, then it might mean that troopers would be diverted elsewhere. It could save Dani’s life, she Shaak played it right. Striding out of We’s office, Hook followed her closely from the post he had taken up outside the door.

 

“What’s going on, General?” he asked, his voice now as deep as any other troopers’, with that persistent accent.

 

“It seems there is a spy in our midst. I am going to assist in apprehending them,” she said carefully, not wanting to give away that she knew already who the spy was. “Report to the commander, and convey my strict order to capture, not kill.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Hook acknowledged, and took off at a brisk trot. Shaak was keenly aware, watching her dearest trooper leave, that he was in as much danger as any of them. More, in some ways, for what he knew. But she also knew that he would do his best to help Dani escape, because he knew what was at stake, not for himself, but for his brothers. With that thought, she ran, ran fast to where she thought she might have the chance to help the Inspector make her bid for freedom.

 

* * *

 

Dani ran, thankful she had memorized the layout of Tipoca City, because it allowed her to duck into rooms to wait out passing patrols, confuse cameras, and generally keep one step ahead of thousands of troopers who had no idea she was here to save their stubborn hides. She was close to her ship, and she hoped that her scrambling protocol would be enough to keep her ship from being ground locked for long enough.

 

As she skidded around a corner, she saw one person standing between her and freedom.

 

Shaak Ti looked completely serene, her head raised high as she caught sight of Dani, her montrals adding to her height and bearing. Dani spared half a thought for how beautiful the Jedi Master was, and then felt a shiver of actual fear as the Togruta ignited her saber. Of course, it had to look good. There had to be a show, but she knew Shaak could not be compromised. And she also couldn’t risk the information she carried.

 

So she played the dirtiest trick she had at her disposal, and unleased her emotional resonance, taking off all the mental controls she normally placed on it. Jedi were strong willed, with sharp minds, generally not susceptible to mind control or other mental manipulation. But few had met someone has trained as Dani was in how to use the legacy of her mother’s people.

 

The other woman fought it, shaking her head like an angry predator, and charged. But the swing was sloppy, and Dani closed the distance between them. Instead of going for a grapple to negate the advantage of the saber, Dani soundly kissed Shaak Ti, the physical contact making her resonance even more potent.

 

It only took a moment, but Shaak Ti dropped like a stone, her mind overwhelmed by the emotional feedback, and Dani ran to her ship, hoping she had done the right thing.

 

* * *

 

Shaak Ti awoke in her chambers, her Force senses oddly dull. She could feel Hook close by, as well as Lama Su, both of them clearly agitated. She sat up on her bed and left her bedroom to find Hook barring the way.

 

“General!” he exclaimed, turning to look at her. “You’re awake!”

 

“Yes, I am Hook. It seems I need to speak to Lama Su. If you could wait in the hallway, please?” she asked, and saw his fractional hesitation before he nodded sharply.

 

“Of course, General,” he said, and left, though his shoulders were set stiffly.

 

“Master Ti, you allowed the spy to escape,” Lama Su accused. Shaak sat down gingerly, noticing that certain parts of her body were rather… aroused. Not a complication she needed right now, but there was little to do about it right now.

 

“No, I did not. The Jedi have not had much cause to fight the Zeltrons, and as such I was unprepared for a combative application of their emotional resonance. As a rule, empaths typically avoid fighting, but it seems this one has honed her skills to be useful in a fight,” Shaak Ti said, maintaining her clear-eyed composure. “What I am more concerned about was how easily she gained access to the facility and what information she took.”

 

“A full investigation is already under way, Master Jedi,” Su said, not expecting Ti to hit back so hard. Shaak stared him down, as if he were an akul, but far more dangerous, for an animal only acted on instinct. Lama Su acted only out of self-interest. Shaak knew what she would rather face every time.

 

“Good. When you have the results, I will need to take a copy to the Jedi Council so we may determine how to counter whatever the spy stole. We will also be conducting our own investigation of the spy and the consortium she claimed to represent,” Shaak said, her gaze remaining steely and sure.

 

“Yes, of course, Master Jedi,” Su said, his long neck bobbing with apparent respect, but even with her blunted senses she could tell he was deeply angry.

 

“Now, I must oversee changes to our training regime. If the spy was able to access our training files, we will have to alter tactics,” she said, and stood again, signaling the end of the conversation. Not bothering to see if Lama Su would see himself out, Shaak strode out of her rooms, Hook again following her closely.

 

“General, are you okay?” he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

 

“Perfectly well, Hook,” she said. “A little embarrassed at my failure to prevent that woman’s escape, but I think we will find answers to our questions.” She smiled, sharp and sure, because in an inner pocket of her robes was a data crystal. Dani must have slipped it to her while they had kissed, not wanting to risk the information should her ship be ground locked. It was enough to give her hope as she reviewed trooper tactics, taking this opportunity to enact changes she had wanted for two years now. On that crystal, once she could get it to the Council, might be the answer to many of their problems.

 

It seemed they might actually manage this, she thought that evening, after a long day of working with troopers. Then, just as she was drifting off to sleep, her Force senses finally recovering, a message came through on her comm. It was text based, no subject, no sender, and it was only one line long.

 

_Until next time, darling._

 

Then the message promptly disappeared, all trace of it likely being erased by a program that had been triggered as soon as she had opened it. And Shaak Ti smiled, thinking that Dani Faygan was certainly one hell of an operative. To anyone else, it might look like a taunt, but Shaak thought it had all the tone and flavor of a promise.

 

And in spite of herself, she really did hope there would be a next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to have more cat and mouse going on, but I'm not good at it. 
> 
> Dani is an OC from B_Radley, used with permission, and ya'll should go check out their stuff!


	5. Civil Campaign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, by August 31st, all my fic will be locked to Archive users only. It's not because I don't love my anon commenters and readers. I do! It's to do with fixing up my online security for various reasons. I hope folks understand. :)

After Mace had informed them of Shaak’s departure from protocol, Adi shifted her robes, which drew the attention of her fellow Masters. Yoda nodded in her direction, and she took that as her cue.

 

“There is another matter I wish to discuss,” she began. “Senator Amidala approached me with a suggestion. She believes that with the war entering a period of quiet, we can use this time to strengthen diplomatic ties to those planets still loyal to the Republic.”

 

“And I assume that the Senator suggested that she would be perfect for the job,” Mace said dryly. They were all very aware of the Senator’s penchant for getting involved, or overly involved depending on one’s perspective.

 

“Yes, but she requested that this be a joint mission between the Senate and the Jedi. She suggested that Knight-Errant Tano might benefit from a return to duty, specifically on a mission that will not put her in a combat situation,” Adi said.

 

“I approve of the idea,” Vokara said decisively. “It’s no good keeping the girl cooped up and trying to handle her gently. She needs to be back out there if she’s going to maintain her confidence. I’d say she’s fit to command, and she has good backup in her battalion.”

 

“This would be a rather unique mission,” Tera mused. “Perhaps we can use this to help secure greater participation from our allies. Indeed, if we can take the pressure off of the troopers, it might be easier to deal with particular fallout.”

 

It always came back to the troopers and the danger they unknowingly represented, Adi thought, her mouth twisting in distaste. She understood Shaak’s drive to help the men, but she hoped that help would not come at too high a cost.

 

“There is another issue that Amidala mentioned to me,” Adi said, pushing past the topic of the troopers for now. “She has seen fit to introduce me to a small group of Senators who have been working together closely for a few months now. Their concerns are growing, and she said they would welcome the council of the Jedi.”

 

Even here, in the heart of the Temple and in Grandmaster Yoda’s rooms, she could not say it outright. That was now deep the paranoia had become, and she knew it was mad, but then, she was not the only one who spoke softly and in circles. Yoda nodded sagely, his small hands resting lightly on his gimer stick.

 

“Fight on many fronts, we do. Find allies, we must,” he said, and Adi heard what he did not say: Because right now we have so few.

 

* * *

 

Padme disembarked from the shuttle, and smiled to see Ahsoka standing in the hangar bay, her head held high and her sabers clipped on to her belt. Rex stood just to the side of the young Jedi, his helmet under his arm.

 

“Welcome aboard, Senator,” Ahsoka said, striding forward, as though they would perform that polite dance Jedi did whenever they met someone in public that they knew. Then the young woman closed the gap between them immediately, embracing her.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” the Togruta whispered, and Padme held the young woman all the tighter for just a little bit longer. They withdrew slightly and looked at each other, smiling. And Padme realized how much Ahsoka had grown, because she was looking _up_.

 

“I’m glad to be here, Ahsoka,” she said, and then laughed. “Though I recall when you were smaller than me. Very upsetting for you to grow so much on me in so short a time.” Ahsoka snorted with amusement. Then she looked over her shoulder at her Commander.

 

“See Rex, montrals count,” she said. Rex rolled his eyes.

 

“Sure, keep telling yourself that, General. Your eye-line is above the Senator’s, so you’re taller anyway,” he said.

 

“You’re no fun, Rex,” Ahsoka accused.

 

“No, sir. It’s against regulations,” Rex said, but Padme had learned how to decode how troopers interacted to see their actual feelings underneath. It was there, a spark of amusement in the man’s golden eyes.

 

“Thank you, Commander, for that important insight into military regulations, but this is a joint mission between the army and the Senate. A good sense of humor will therefore be necessary,” Padme said pressing on, as Ahsoka withdrew and they walked through the corridors of the ship.

 

“Right, winning hearts and changing minds,” Ahsoka said. “Showing off our military and getting more non-clone recruits. Oh, and no pressure, because this is the first mission of its kind.”

 

“You will do wonderfully, Ahsoka, and that is why this is a joint mission, after all. We will help each other in this,” Padme reassured the young woman, and they entered the briefing room. They each found their places around the conference table, and Padme began to queue up her information for the mission.

 

“So, I suppose now that we’re heading out of the system, you can tell me where we’re headed?” Ahsoka asked. “Nav really likes a heading before we punch it.” Padme smiled.

 

“I’m beginning to wonder if you and Knight Skywalker were put together just to keep all the sarcasm in one basket,” Padme said, not bothering to cover the fondness in her voice. These two had seen far more than would have been necessary to put those pieces together.

 

“Oh, no, that’s Obi-Wan’s fault. He may _seem_ all cultured and civilized, but he’s the best at sarcastic banter that I’ve ever heard. I suggested he teach a special module during the dueling courses,” Ahsoka said brightly, and Rex barked a laugh, finally unable to keep his amusement under wraps.

 

“On that, I might have to agree with you,” Padme said, and then the information between to scroll through the screens in front of their chairs. “However, for now, we’re going to Shili. Senator Teren Sha suggested that his people could be convinced to join, if it meant a quicker end to the war, and an opportunity to help those in need.”

 

“Hence me,” Ahsoka said, looking over the information.

 

“Togruta do have a history of being excellent warriors,” Rex pointed out. “Present company included.”

 

“Huntress, technically,” Ahsoka said, shooting her commander a grin regardless. Though she quickly returned to her screen, making her own notes. Then she looked at Padme.

 

“Warriors and healers, it says. You’re thinking of trying to reach the Silent,” Ahsoka said. “They don’t leave the planet lightly, and they’re precious to their clans.”

 

“Senator Sha said as much,” Padme agreed, “but Shili is a Mid-Rim world, never directly touched by war, though the Kiros colony attack started making them pay more attention. We have had sporadic volunteers from Shili, small warrior bands as they style themselves, joining and undertaking hit-and-run operations.”

 

“A full planetary commitment, though,” Rex pondered and gave his General a long look. This one didn’t have the humor of the previous one. It was all business. “Could save a lot of brothers, the sooner this war ends.” There was a weight to that statement that Padme didn’t fully understand, but she saw it settle over Ahsoka like a mantle.

 

“I guess we’re off to Shili, then. To do diplomacy,” Ahsoka said.

 

“I’m sure you’ll do diplomacy at them excellently, Ahsoka,” Rex said, that humor dancing in his eyes again.

 

“ _With_ , Rex. I’m pretty sure, it’s with. Right Padme?” the young woman asked with a sharp smile, and Padme found herself seeing the same humor in two sets of eyes, one blue, one gold.

 

“Oh gods and little fishes help me,” she sighed, and she had known this mission would be interesting. She had suggested it, after all, to the Jedi and the Senate alike. But Padme had never before directly encountered that _damned obtuse clone humor_ , as Anakin called it. Until now.

 

An interesting mission for certain.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka had never seen Corvala before, the largest city on and the capital of Shili. She only had vague memories of her village, and Master Ti had taken her directly to the hunting grounds. She tried to not appear as though she were looking everywhere at once, reminding herself that she had grown up on Coruscant, had gone to the crystal caves of Ilum, and seen the wonders of the galaxy.

 

But she had never seen a city like this.

 

The colony on Kiros, she saw now, was only a pale imitation of this city. The homes and shops were hard to tell apart, every last one arching gracefully into the sky and blending into each other. The whole city flowed together, as though it had been designed as a whole rather than built up randomly as most cities were. Togruta, a people of the plains and nomads at heart, had thousands of years ago needed to build a city. So they had done it once and done it right. Even the _spaceport_ was incorporated beautifully into the structure of the city.

 

“It reminds me of Theed, in a way,” Padme said, the woman’s dark eyes drinking in the sight before them as they touched down.   “Different shapes, but the desire to create something beautiful, something that belongs to the landscape, rather than imposing upon it.”

 

“That’s it,” Ahsoka said, grinning. “That’s exactly how to describe it, yes.” Then she squared her shoulders, getting ready to disembark. “I suppose it’s time to be diplomatic, now, huh?”

 

“Quite,” Padme agreed, clasping her hands before her. “Diplomacy is more than just talking, remember?”

 

“It’s everything we do,” Ahsoka answered dutifully. The time they had on the _Adamant_ had been brief, but Padme had crammed as much diplomatic corps training into it as she could. Ahsoka’s head was swimming with protocol, phrasing, and the importance of staying calm and collected. Even the command staff troopers had been subjected to the training, which had caused an unsurprising combination of grumbling and amusement. Grumbling at their own plight and amusement that their brothers had to suffer along with them.

 

Rex had not grumbled, of course. At least not where anyone could see or hear. Ahsoka had _felt_ him grumbling. Internally. She considered it a heroic act that she hadn’t burst out laughing at the feeling he broadcast when he’d seen the custom formal dress greys Padme had ordered for the troopers, to set them apart from Navy personnel. The look he had given her, however, said that he clearly knew she _wanted_ to laugh.

 

Now they were disembarking, Ahsoka in the lead with Padme. Erel, as a Republic Admiral should have been to their right, but Ahsoka had insisted that Rex cover her six. No one had argued, so the Corellian was to their left, a half step behind Padme. Rex, in his new army dress greys, complete with Commander bars, took up a position to her right. She half turned her head back to him, and gave him a little grin, as if to say _well, we’re all in this together now_ , when she noticed the pins on his collar.

 

One pin was the same that had been given to every other officer in the 332nd, an orange set of her facial markings, the de-facto symbol of her battalion. The other was a set of jaig eyes in 501st blue. All of it had certainly been Padme’s work, getting those to the men, and she was glad he got to display them even in dress uniform.

 

Then they were swept up in pomp and ceremony as they were ushered into the building that housed the Elder’s Council. First, there was the tour. Padme had warned Ahsoka about the propensity for tours. At least it was interesting, and it was the Council chamber itself that made her smile. It was designed to mimic the inside of a nomad’s tent with soft cloths stretched overhead, each one in the colors of the clans, and soft, low lights illuminated the room. There were low chairs set in a kind of oval, with some higher seats at one end for presiding members. It was a lovely room, as far as seats of government went, and she found she liked it better than the cold, sterility of the Galactic Senate, or the overly grand throne rooms she had seen throughout the galaxy.

 

Before she could ask any questions, they were directed to a reception room.

 

And the double talk began.

 

Ahsoka smiled and grinned and shook hands and made polite conversation. She could hear Padme doing the same, as well as Erel. Rex kept close to her, the sheer amount of political attention making him jumpy. Unable to say anything directly, Ahsoka began to understand why Anakin fled from anything remotely political. All she wanted was to shake one of them, to make them stop talking and _listen_ to how her brothers were dying, how children were dying because of this war, and here they stood and politely chatted about all sorts of things that didn’t matter!

 

 _Listen between the words_ , Padme had told her, and as she was working up a good, internal rant, she breathed out, smiled again, and tried to do just that.

 

What she heard was hardly encouraging.

 

Shili was far from certain about going to war.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka flopped down on the couch, putting her feet up on the table, letting her frustration show more than she should. Probably in response to how she had contained her behavior during the day talking to the Elders of Shili. She had joined Padme in her apartments, as the Senator garnered an actual suite. As a Jedi, Ahsoka was given a small, if rather nice, bedroom, acknowledging her status as someone who was not supposed to need much in the way of comfort. Likely Erel got a nice set of rooms, but she knew her command staff among the troopers had rooms like she did, while the rest of the _vod’e_ were relegated to the ship for the moment.

 

“It wasn’t that bad, Ahsoka,” Padme said, sitting down with a great deal more poise and grace than Ahsoka herself had done.

 

“Really? Not that bad? They want Republic protection, but don’t want to commit anything to the war effort,” she groused.

 

“We wouldn’t have been invited here if that were entirely the case, Ahsoka. I believe that some of the Elders are interested in seeing Shili contribute more to the war effort, but are waiting on something to voice their support,” Padme said, voice calm and even in the face of political machinations.

 

“Do you know which ones?” Ahsoka asked, sitting up, an idea forming in her mind. Likely one that would make Padme herself proud.

 

“Yes, I could pick them out, I think,” Padme said, nodding.

 

“Great! Then let’s talk to them directly,” Ahsoka said. “Anyway, we’re supposed to show our hospitality now, right? And we’re allowed to control the guest list, right? That was in the manual you gave me.”

 

“You actually read it?” Padme asked, smiling. “You’re already one up on Anakin, then.”

 

“Okay, let’s be honest, that isn’t hard as far as diplomacy is concerned,” Ahsoka said, grinning and feeling more than a little proud of herself. Then she deflated.

 

“What’s wrong, Ahsoka?” Padme asked, noticing the shift in mood easily.

 

“Rex and the boys. They’re going to _hate_ this.”

 

* * *

 

“I hate this,” Rex said in a low grumble, visibly restraining himself from pulling at the high collar of his dress uniform. Jesse and Thorn were clearly in the same camp as Rex, while Kix and Jarek were a little more at ease. Thorn was still new to his Captaincy, but Jarek was a born ARC-troper, able to deal with unusual situations better than his brothers. Erel was also doing very well, putting on all the charm he could as a son of Corellia and using his uniform to great effect. Padme, of course, looked amazing in her formal wear, perfectly done up. Even Ahsoka felt at ease, able to use Jedi robes as a mode of formal dress. Rex, conversely, clearly felt stiff and awkward.

 

Ahsoka patted his arm, trying to be consoling and failing. Rex had been one of her best friends for the past three years, and he had never been this clearly uncomfortable. It was a little bit funny, and she felt only somewhat bad about finding it so humorous.

 

“I know you do, but they need to see a representative of the men, and you’re one of the best in the whole army, Rex,” she said, keeping the amusement out of her voice. He exhaled sharply and strode into the fray. Never mind that she knew he would rather face a battalion of super battle droids than a handful of politicians.

 

Ahsoka, determined to mingle for all her worth, joined a group of three women, all of whom wore akul teeth as she did. Their eyes went first to her headdress as she approached, and then they bowed slightly from the waist, one huntress to another.

 

“ _It is rare these days to see a young one with teeth,_ ” the eldest of them said in Togruti, her skin wrinkled, but her lekku long and montrals graceful. Elder Nelar, Ahsoka’s memory supplied. A sharp woman from a powerful clan.

 

“ _Jedi Master Shaak Ti brought to me to Shili to learn when I was thirteen. She thought it important to know my heritage, and I cherish the time I spent in the grass,_ ” Ahsoka said, shifting to the more formal mode of address to echo the elder. Master Ti had made Ahsoka learn as a youngling, and they had only spoken in their native language while on the planet, but that had been years ago. She had practiced a great deal on their way here, and was thankful that she had done so.

 

“ _Thirteen? You imply you earned those teeth as a mere child? Perhaps not alone,_ ” another woman said, tone clearly skeptical. Elder Tané, from a small but proud clan. Ahsoka held her head high, arching a brow at the woman. Warriors of Shili might boast, but a huntress spoke in facts.

 

“ _I faced the akul alone, and I earned my teeth. Perhaps if you asked, I would tell you how I hunted it. Should we not share information, as fellow huntresses?_ ” Ahsoka asked archly, earning a round of approving smiles from everyone save Tané.

 

“ _She has the Force, Tané, and I believe her. Do you think Shaak would have let her keep the teeth if she had not earned them?_ ” the last woman said, less obviously aged than the others, and something about her was familiar, but Ahsoka recalled that her name was Arala, the elder from Ahsoka’s birth clan. Tané jerked her head sharply, then smiled, her dark eyes bright with amusement.

 

“ _Proud and fierce, as a huntress should be. You don’t back down when offered a challenge to your honor. I like you,_ ” Tané said, and Ahsoka resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“ _You and your tests,_ ” Nelar grumbled, nudging Tané in rebuke, though not harshly. “ _But not without merit this time._ ” Then the eldest woman smiled, her face a network of fine lines, but in her bright eyes Ahsoka saw a will of iron.

 

“You’re asking a lot of us, _faran’wendë_ ,” Nelar said bluntly, switching to basic, calling her young huntress, a hopeful note of familiarity. Then she continued. “To commit our resources and our people to this war, this war without an end in sight. To fight alongside _daug’únassë_ who are patterned on a Mandalorian. For all that they are trained to serve the Republic and the Jedi, we know that face and that voice of old, and it is not a welcome one.”

 

“ _Maethor, údaug_ ,” Ahsoka said, her voice even but with a low, definite. _Warriors, not soldiers_ , she had said. Because Ahsoka knew what _nassë_ meant. It meant more than ‘individuality’, it also meant, in a way, ‘true-essence’, and Nelar had called the _vod’e_ —men she had fought and bled beside, men she had held as they died, and one in particular she cared for deeply— _unnatural men_. Ahsoka knew the mind of the people of her birth, and she knew how unnaturalness was viewed.

 

“You claim them, all of them, as clan warriors?” Tané challenged, the older woman’s expression suddenly opaque.

 

“Yes,” Ahsoka said swiftly. “In particular, the 332nd are my battalion, they are my warriors, brothers in arms. They fight and die for each other, and they are not without individuality. You need only to look at them, truly look at them, to see that. They make themselves up as they go along, but how is that different from any one else? They might be clones, but that does not mean they are not men.”

 

“You speak stridently about these men, Knight-Errant Tano, and that speaks well of them. Do not doubt that,” Arala said, her expression giving nothing away, but Ahsoka thought there might be a flicker of interest in those blue eyes. “I also take this to mean you have been through much with them, but you must understand the last time Shili became involved in a galactic war, we were invaded by Mandalore, and have long had a distrust of her people ever since. Your Commander even wears jaig eyes. More, after the war was over, after we had committed troops, we were ignored by the Republic. Long experience has taught us to keep ourselves apart, even if we do believe the Republic is the best way to ensure intergalactic cooperation.”

 

“Then why are you here?” Ahsoka asked before she could stop herself. The three women expressions became studiously blank at that point. However, deciding that she had already put her foot in it, she might as well go for broke. “If the goal is to return to business as usual and end a disruption to the intergalactic cooperation you want, then wouldn’t it make more sense to help end it faster? Will it take sacrifices? Yes. But so far those sacrifices have been borne by men who were made and who have no choice but to fight. Your taxes have helped pay for them, you know. So you will pay for men to fight and die, but you will not fight beside them? You will not help ease their suffering as they bleed for Shili without ever once knowing the sight of her? They who have no choice? But when you are offered a choice, you shirk it because of some old bad blood? As if two clans who once warred were never able to find a new way of doing things? Shili need not remain undervalued. Show the galaxy the worth of your warriors and lead the way toward a Republic that better serves all her people.”

 

Caught up in her own train of thought, speaking without thinking as Padme had told her _not to do_ , Ahsoka hadn’t noticed how the whole room had gone quiet. Everyone was staring at her, her voice having carried throughout the whole room. The Elders of Shili’s faces were impassive, as was Padme’s. Though Ahsoka knew the Senator well enough to see the slightly disappointed shock in her brown eyes. Erel’s eyes danced with sardonic glee, likely because she had taken a room full of politicians to task. But it was her trooper’s expressions that cut her. Their faces were blank, old habits from Kamino keeping them contained, but in their eyes she saw a profound gratitude. Because she had said what no one would, the unspeakable truth of what they were, and had tried to shame the Elders of Shili with the fact.

 

That was when Elder Nelar, the oldest one in the whole room Ahsoka now saw, bowed fully. She held the bow until the others followed suit, and Ahsoka looked around confused, not sure what was going on. Then Nelar straightened and looked at Ahsoka with unabashed pride.

 

“You speak well, and true, and remind us of things we would all rather forget,” she said. “To answer you, we came to see what you would offer us to aid you. Would you offer money or favors? Would you offer that which you could not deliver? Instead, you offered us the one thing we cannot deny: the truth. This is the most powerful coin there is. All else is wind over the grass, but the truth. The truth is the land and the rock and the water, that which supports and sustains.” Then the old woman smiled. “Of course, we will still bargain for the wind. We must, but we will bargain with you, Ahsoka Tano, Knight-Errant of the Jedi Order. Once the details are established, on this you have my word, and the word of all here: Shili will go to war.”

 

* * *

 

“You did it, Ahsoka! It was unconventional, to say the least, but you did it!” Padme enthused, squeezing Ahsoka’s hands tightly after the party had ended. Erel and the troopers were with them this time. Erel, also smiling widely, patted her lightly on the shoulder.

 

“Well done,” he said. “Very well done.”

 

“Thank you, but it wasn’t intentional. It all just… came out,” she finished lamely. With the troopers there, she wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal how older Togruta might perceive them, especially the traditionalists.

 

“Well, when your Master lets lose like that, it’s not half so eloquent. You have a gift, Ahsoka, for talking to people, for getting their measure,” Padme said, having already let go of Ahsoka’s hands. “Now, we have to spend some time thinking about how to negotiate, but it’s clear they will negotiate with you, not me. I can be on hand to help, though, and I can tell you what the Republic will and won’t be able to accommodate. We have some freedom here, and we can do a great deal, but we cannot give them everything.”

 

“Senator, I appreciate that there is a lot of work to do, but we should all get some rest. I know the Jedi and the troopers can go beyond normal limits, but you and I are mere mortals,” Erel said, smiling. Ahsoka shot him a grateful look and hoped Padme wouldn’t notice. Her command staff all looked relieved at the idea of getting out of their dress greys, even Kix and Jarek who had been by far the most comfortable of the _vod’e_ at the gathering.

 

“Oh very well. We do have time,” Padme conceded. “But bright and early tomorrow, Ahsoka.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Ahsoka said, nodding. Then they all said their goodnights and left Padme’s suite. Erel headed down the hallway, back to his own room while she and the men walked the other way to their smaller, more modest appointments. She reached her room first, closely positioned to Padme’s rooms, and she wished the troopers good night. Rex, however, lingered.

 

“Thank you, for what you said. For knowing what it means to us. But then, you always saw us for what we were,” he said softly, simply. They had found their equilibrium again, and she knew that no matter what happened they would always care for each other, no matter what form that took. And yet, in the low light of the hallway, there was an intimacy they had both avoided for a good many reasons. It wasn’t permitted. She was still recovering from what Tarkin had done to her. But for a heartbeat, she let the moment breathe between them, and her heart beat felt like a drum pushing her closer to him.

 

Then she smiled, a compassionate, understanding smile, and for Rex’s part he couldn’t help but drink in the sight of her, even though he shouldn’t. The curve of her cheek outlined by her facial markings, which were shifting as she continued to grow, and how her blue eyes were deep and dark and drew him in. She didn’t need that from him, he knew, not after what she had been through, so he took a half step back and clasped his hands behind him.

 

“You, the men, you’re my clan. I’ll fight for you however I can,” she said honestly, her voice matching his low pitch. Ahsoka knew why he withdrew. For all that they had found a calmer ground on which to stand, he still held back. Then again, so did she. Now was not the time to go stirring up that sort of trouble. Then her smile turned into a grin, breaking the moment. “Anyway, I better get to sleep. Padme, the Senator I mean, will want to see me early in the morning, I bet. To strategize, or something.”

 

“I’ll bring by some _caf_ for you, then. That is, if I can find any,” he offered, tone dry. Then he ducked his head in lieu of a salute. “Night, General.”

 

“Sleep well, Rex,” she said, and slipped into her room, determined not to do something stupid like watch him walk away. However, she went stock still as the door closed behind her and she sensed a presence in the dark room, her eyes picking out the shape of someone sitting on chair that had been set in front of the small desk built out from the wall. Kicking herself for being distracted by Rex, she breathed out slowly and drew the Force to her.

 

The figure reached out and turned on the light, revealing Elder Arala in her long robes sitting calmly and looking at Ahsoka with a cautious expression. Ahsoka frowned, not sure why the Elder would come to her like this. It didn’t bode well. Some intrigue or another was afoot, most likely. And that meant there would be trouble. Just once, she wanted something to go like how it should.

 

“I am not here on any nefarious purpose, Jedi Tano,” she said, voice calm, but with a strange undercurrent she couldn’t identify. Almost longing. Ahsoka quirked a brow and crossed her arms underneath her breasts.

 

“Then why are you here, Elder Arala?” she asked bluntly, putting all the skepticism she could in her tone.

 

“Because I am not simply the Elder of your birth clan,” the woman said. She took a steadying breath, and then went on. “I am your _on’el_ , your aunt.” Ahsoka felt like something had dropped out of the sky and hit her on the head. That would be why Arala looked so familiar. She had seen the other woman before, but roughly fourteen years ago and from a child’s perspective. With deliberate movements, Ahsoka sat on the bed, facing her aunt.

 

“Why speak to me like this?” she asked. Arala merely arched a brow, and Ahsoka saw an echo of herself in the woman.

 

“Because Jedi are not permitted families, and while I have no intention of seeing you stray from your path, I did want to see my sister’s daughter and have her know me for what I am,” she said. “I also wish you to know that if there anything I can do to help you here, to help you engage with your heritage, you have but to ask. We are from the same clan. It would be appropriate.”

 

Ahsoka had no idea how to feel about this. It was strange, to suddenly think that she had a family, one that had given her up. Not that she had any regrets. She remembered being loved, so loved and cherished. Precious. Then she realized that she already had a family, and for all that Elder Arala might be a blood relation, that did not mean they shared the kinds of bonds that made family real. Still, Ahsoka could appreciate the gesture for what it was.

 

“Thank you for your kindness, Elder Arala,” she said, and meant it. “I’m not sure what I would ask, but… I thank you.”

 

“Think on it. I do not think we would ever be close,” she said, smiling wryly. “You are meant to be a great Jedi, and we were so very proud of you. We still are.”

 

It was that last comment that gripped Ahsoka’s heart in a way that was entirely unexpected. They had kept tabs on her. They had watched for her, and they had seen some of her life play out as this war went on. And they were proud. She dipped her head, letting out a soft trill alone, one that expressed a mixture of humility and gratitude that was deeper than words.

 

“I will think on it, as you said _on’el_ ,” she promised, rising her head, blue eyes meeting the same blue eyes, and she now knew for certain she had gotten that unusual color from her mother.

 

“Then I will leave you to rest. Tomorrow we will begin negotiations, and do not think I will be easy on you,” Elder Arala said, standing, tall and almost regal in her robes. Ahsoka sat back and smirked.

 

“Bring it on,” she said, and she felt her old surety, her iron confidence returning. While she might find negotiations dull on general principle, she had never been able to back down from a challenge. Arala laughed.

 

“Sleep well, then, Jedi. You will need it,” she said and left on silent feet, like a huntress. Then Ahsoka realized her aunt had gotten in the last word and laughed.

 

It seemed that her tendency toward sass wasn’t entirely learned. It was something she had been born with.

 

* * *

 

Rex slid down the slope as the mortars slammed into the ground behind him. His new mixed squad was at his back, the Togruta in modified armor, to keep their montrals free for communication. They had been training for the past week while the fine details were hammered out at Corvala. He was thankful to be out in the field, even if it was practice, if only to be back in his armor and have his blasters to hand.

 

“Cubern, coordinate with Red Squad,” Rex barked, turning to the Togruta corporal that they had with them. The young warrior let out a few quick vocalizations, far beyond the range of most species hearing, and damned fast. While droids, in theory, could analyze the sounds, few linguistic programs could actually decode Togruta trills as it turned out. There were no direct translations because the Togruta didn’t allow them. Cubern cocked his head, listening, and then turned back to Rex with a grin.

 

“Fifty meters, sir, to our left flank. They’ll be ready on your mark,” the corporal said, checking his blaster sights. He also carried an extendable staffblade, an upgrade to the traditional spear they all learned to fight with, but he kept it clipped to his side for now.

 

“You all know the drill. Ready? Mark!” Rex called out, and on cue the young Togruta trilled, and his squad rose up out of their small trench, while he saw Thorn’s squad do the same. The enemy squad, run by Jesse, was quickly overwhelmed by the precise flanking maneuver, unable to pick off each squad at their leisure. Nor were they able to anticipate the timing because _no one else could hear the signal_. Rex had seen a great deal in his three years in the field, but this, this was something that could save a lot of lives. If they deployed Togruta quickly and intelligently, they could start taking territory back before the Seppies knew what was going on and before they could come up with counter measures. Whatever other dark intrigues surrounded the war, and Rex knew that some did even if he was light on specifics, keeping his brothers alive to see the end of this damn thing was all he wanted.

 

Jesse held his hands up in surrender, and quickly removed his helmet once the practice run was over. He was grinning, seeing exactly what Rex saw.

 

“Well done, men,” Rex said, taking in the training squads, then noticed Corporal Sira, the Togruta attached to Thorn’s squad, arch a brow at him. He added a belated, “And women. Let’s clear the field and let the other squads have their run.”

 

The squads moved out, leaving the practice field, but he saw Corporal Sira approach him, and Rex tensed. It had been happening all week, some of the female Togruta approaching him, and it had taken only a couple of instances for him to figure it out. Unsure how to handle the attention, Rex had doubled down on maintaining his professional demeanor. It was undercut, however, by the fact that his brothers found the whole situation funny. Jesse, walking next to him, noticed Sira’s movement and of course took a step or two away to give him ‘privacy.’

 

“Commander, a moment of your time, please,” she said, and Rex nodded, on the off chance that she was going to bring up something relevant to fighting Seppies. “I wanted to speak with you about rotating the squads we work with, to provide greater treating opportunities. It makes sense, don’t you think?”

 

A very off-chance.

 

“No, I don’t, Corporal,” he said tersely. “I have worked with the general staff, and we agreed on the need for squads to remain as intact as possible for many reasons. If you feel that you need extra training, take it up with your squad leader. Thorn would be happy to help you, I’m sure.” It was harsh, but he hoped that if he set them all down, the whole stupid thing would stop. She inclined her head, and out the corner of his eye he could see a spark of defiance in her features. Stubborn, the lot of them.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, and beat a hasty retreat back to her squad. Jesse, who had heard the whole exchange, sidled up to him.

 

“You know, Rex, I feel like you aren’t appreciating the moment here,” Jesse drawled. Rex glared at his brother for a moment, then shorted and shook his head.

 

“I don’t say anything about how you _appreciate_ all this, do I, _vod_?” Rex asked dryly. Jesse’s grin became broad at that. While Rex received a good measure of attention, his brothers did not go unnoticed by the younger Togurta.

 

“Hey, winning hearts and minds isn’t easy. Besides, the more Republic citizens see us as people, the better for all of us. And I gotta say, it’s a damn fun way to be seen as people,” Jesse said brightly.

 

“Kix know what you get up to?” Rex asked. Jesse shrugged.

 

“He’s there half the time,” Jesse said, and then Rex promptly regretted that line of questioning. He didn’t much care what his brothers got up to, but that didn’t mean he needed anything like details. “Look, Rex, you might as well loosen up a bit. It’s not like you made any promises to anyone, _vod_.”

 

Rex shook his head, and wished Jesse didn’t know so damn much. Or that Kix didn’t _tell_ Jesse so damn much.

 

“I’m the Commander, Jesse. Wouldn’t be right,” he said, hoping that would end _that_ particular line of inquiry. “Anyway, it seems weirdly disproportional. I wonder why the hell so many of the women are interested, even if they’ve never met me before.”

 

“It’s the jaig eyes,” Cubern said, drawing even with them. He gave Rex a sheepish look, but continued. “Mandalore tried to conquer Shili once, and we fought them off. But we remember what those markings mean. You’re a warrior of rare honor and skill. Trust me, our women are still interested in that, in spite of the lingering anger at Mandalore. I swear, it’s hardwired.”

 

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Rex asked, eyes wide. Cubern nodded. “Kriffing hell, that’s… that’s… fine. How do I stop it?”

 

“I can let them know you aren’t interested. It doesn’t exactly make sense to us, you understand. Huntresses and warriors often were bondmates, for a season or for life depending, but they knew the good of the clan always came first. Our military has never had the anti-fraternization rules that others do,” Cubern explained. He shrugged. “We never needed to.”

 

“Fine, put the word out, Cubern, I’d appreciate it,” Rex said, and the Togruta nodded, jogging away to talk to Sira. It was a start. “Now, I better go find Kix, see how our new medical corps is getting on.”

 

“Work, work work, with you, Rex. If it keeps up like this, Kix is going to prescribe you something, and you won’t like it,” Jesse taunted before beating a hasty retreat. Rex exhaled sharply, and went to find Kix so they could establish new medical procedures. As tedious as that would be, he knew someone else had it far worse than he did when it came to the banalities of Grand Army and Togruta coordination.

 

* * *

 

After a week of hammering out the details, Ahsoka had found new depths of boredom. The first day or so had been challenging and interesting, and she had wanted to show Elder Arala that she was up to the job. Thankfully, Padme had been there, and Erel had shown a talent for negotiation.

 

“I know it’s difficult,” Padme said during a quick break. “You’re a great deal like Anakin, though you hide your impatience much better than he does.” The Senator was dressed in a more businesslike manner for the negotiations, her hair pinned up and back. Ahsoka was again able to stay in her Jedi robes, for which she was grateful.

 

“Padme, that’s not difficult,” Ahsoka said dryly. “But I am restless. I can sit still when I have to. See my ability to meditate. This though. This is driving me crazy. We’ve just got a few details left to hammer out, and I swear their dragging their feet.”

 

“They’re trying to make sure they aren’t going to be taken advantage of, Ahsoka. This is the first time a planet will commit people and resources to this war, and they’re in a precarious position,” Padme said, but Ahsoka saw the wry expression and knowing spark in the other woman’s brown eyes.

 

Ahsoka huffed.

 

“Why are you always so reasonable, Padme? Has anyone ever told you that it’s really annoying how you see situations from every perspective?” Ahsoka asked, smirking.

 

“Several someones, in fact,” Padme said airily, “and that’s why I keep doing it.” On impulse, Ahsoka flung her arms around Padme’s shoulders and squeezed the other woman tightly. Padme, thrown off guard by the sudden affection, started for just a moment, then smiled and wrapped her arms around Ahsoka’s waist.

 

“It’s been great, you know, getting to do this with you,” Ahsoka said, withdrawing, but still holding Padme’s hands, a gesture common to Naboo and Togruta alike. “I always learn so much from you. And you’ve been so… you’ve been there for me, through so much, helping me in the Senate. I heard, about what you did.”

 

“Ahsoka, it was my honor to help you, to defend you and advocate for you,” Padme began to say, but Ahsoka shook her head, forestalling what Padme had to say.

 

“Elder Arala is my aunt, my mother’s sister, and it’s made me think. Think about family. I can tell that I inherited a few things from my birth family. My eyes, my skin, my tendency towards sarcasm,” she said, grinning, and Padme laughed. “But you taught me about changing my perspective, about patience in the face of ignorance, and how to see the best in people, even someone who might be an enemy. You… you’ve been like a mother to me these last few years, in a lot of ways, in the ways that count, and I wanted you to know that.”

 

Padme’s dark eyes were luminous, and unable to say anything for once, she embraced Ahsoka again, holding the young woman tightly.

 

“Ahsoka, you are a treasure, and oh, I cannot imagine my life without you. You’ve brought me such joy and brightness and hope. You have a gift, and I am so glad you have shared that with me,” Padme said, and Ahsoka felt her heart about to burst.

 

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I have a favor to ask you,” she said, eyes hopeful.

 

“Anything! Name it!” Padme exclaimed quickly, and Ahsoka smirked.

 

“You really should know better than to agree to anything without finding out what it is, Padme. What kind of diplomat are you? Such a poor example that you’re setting, here,” Ahsoka quipped, and Padme laughed, delighted in the verve and resilience the young woman before her continued to display.

 

* * *

 

The drums were pounding, and Padme carefully traced the paint along Ahsoka’s skin with her fingers. They were in a small hut lit by candles, actual candles, for the occasion. The other young women, near to Ahsoka’s age, were being painted by their own mothers, nearest female kin, or a woman specifically designated as a hunt-mother. Padme had seen Elder Arala’s expression when Ahsoka had informed the woman that she wanted to do the traditional dance to commemorate her successful hunt, as she had not been able to do at the time. Then had come the admission that _Padme_ would serve as her mother. Had Master Ti been here and been chosen, Padme doubted there would have been a problem. But Ahsoka had held firm, and since negotiations were over and some celebration was in order, and the Elders had given in.

 

“Stop twitching,” Padme said, concentrating on getting the pattern just right across Ahsoka’s belly. The young woman was clad in little. A simple breast binding and loin cloth in the manner of her nomadic ancestors, and bands laden with charms at her wrists and ankles. But most importantly, her akul teeth gleamed in the low light.

 

“It tickles!” Ahsoka exclaimed, biting her lower lip to try to keep from giggling. Jedi and huntresses did _not_ giggle. With one last line of white pigment, Padme was done and stood, stepping back to take in the tall, muscular form of the young woman who had grown up before her eyes.

 

Then the drums became more frenetic in their beat, and Ahsoka bounced on the balls of her bare feet. The young men that had just completed their traditional warrior training began to sing, calling for the huntresses to join them. The other elder women in the hut all stood with knowing smiles while the young women called back, taunting. The exchange went back and forth, then on the third verse the young women announced their coming and dashed outside. As Padme left the hut, she watched Ahsoka dance, leaping and twirling in time to the beat, and in that moment made a choice.

 

Because no matter how careful she had been, surprises happened, and she had been debating what to do, how to handle it. She had been debating it, knowing all the reasons why not, and all the reasons why she should. But her time with Ahsoka had cemented her choice. She would keep the baby.

 

* * *

 

Rex had gotten the invitation, so had Jesse and Kix and Erel, those who had been there for her darkest moment, to be there for Ahsoka’s dance. Cubern had told him what to expect, had told them all what it meant for her to dance this dance. But nothing could have prepared him for _seeing_ her dance. For seeing the firelight play over her skin in the night, for watching her move with an undeniable grace and power, for seeing her bright and happy and _herself_ in a way that she had not been in some time. Not just before Tarkin, but maybe even before the Temple bombing. Before she had been through so much darkness.

 

And she was glorious.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka knew what the _rigelle_ , the dance, was for. It was to celebrate the girl who had left the safety of her clan to hunt an akul, and the woman who had defeated it to return in triumph. It was the final step on a rite of passage, of becoming a woman of the clan. It was also to declare that she was ready to choose a mate, in the old ways. She knew many young women found companionship after the dance; she had found that out when she had sat by Shaak Ti at thirteen and watched the older girls wander off into the grass with the boys or other girls.

 

But tonight, she didn’t dance for any of that.

 

She danced because she was alive and free and had done right by her troopers.

 

She danced because she had been through darkness and found the light again.

 

She danced to reclaim a part of herself that another had tried to steal.

 

She danced for the only person worth dancing for.

 

She danced for herself.

 

* * *

 

The dance over, Ahsoka sat by the banked fire, wrapped in a blanket to ward of the chill of the night. Everyone else had gone off, the elders departing as the dance wound down and other things were winding up. Even Jesse and Kix had gone off somewhere. Ahsoka had declined to join anyone in the grass, knowing that she still had some way to go to fully recover that part of herself. But the dance had been a start.

 

Then she heard someone approaching, and she turned to see Rex there.

 

“Mind if I keep you company, General?” he asked softly, aware how voices carried in the night.

 

“Feel free, Rexter,” she said, and he sat next to her cross-legged, dressed in the one set of civilian clothing he had pieced together over the years: plain black pants, boots, and a dark blue shirt. In deference to the peaceful location, he had foregone his blasters.

 

“Thank you, for inviting us, inviting me,” he said, and she could feel the heat of him even through the blanket. But then, humans ran warmer than she did, troopers even warmer still with their higher metabolisms. She smiled and nudged him with her shoulder.

 

“Of course,” she said, then turned her head to look at him. “You know, you don’t have to hold yourself back on my account.” He shot her a confused look, eyebrow raising.

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

 

“Jesse told me. Well, he told me about how it made you all kinds of uncomfortable to have women all but throwing themselves at you,” she said. “He thought it was pretty funny. And I’ll admit, it kind of is.”

 

Rex grunted darkly.

 

“Never wanted it, never asked for it, and had to chase them all off. It was damned annoying,” he said.

 

“But it would have been uncomplicated,” she pointed out, because she had to let him know he didn’t have to wait around for her, for this war to be over. It wasn’t fair to him to ask more than he could take or give. She cared about him too much to do that to him, especially when she wasn’t sure what they were anymore. Friends, certainly. But not only friends. “And I can understand wanting something uncomplicated.”

 

He turned his gaze to the glowing embers in front of them, his golden eyes reflecting their low light, and he let out a slow breath.

 

“Uncomplicated isn’t the point. Thought we’d already established that,” he said, and looked back at her with a deep tenderness. One that she knew he possessed, but rarely displayed. She smiled, laying her head on his shoulder.

 

“Not exactly,” she said, “but I think I get what you mean.”

 

“Good, I don’t want to have to go through some stupid jealousy misunderstanding. You remember those holodramas Echo used to watch? There was always some problem that would be solved in five minutes if people just talked to each other,” he said, and she snorted with laughter.

 

“He really did love those things,” she said, recalling staying up with Echo watching them. Simpler times, a scant year and a half ago, before all the dark turns that had awaited them. Then she scooted a little closer to him, leeching his warmth. “I’m glad you were here, Rex. It really meant a lot to me.”

 

“I got your back, Ahsoka. Always,” he said softly.

 

“I know,” she whispered in reply.

 

And there, under the stars, in the middle of the turu-grass, they sat, content in each other’s company, and for a brief time neither clone trooper or Jedi, but simply themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Togruti, based on Tolkien's elvish, as always  
> daug’únassë = lit. soldiers without individuality/true-essence; trans. unnatural soldiers (clone soldiers)  
> faran’ wendë = lit. maiden hunter; trans. young huntress  
> maethor = warrior; connotation of ‘warrior of the clan’  
> on’el = aunt; note: Tolkien’s elvish has no word for aunt, so I imagine it would eventually evolve from the long form of the term: emel’en’onórë, which literally means my mother’s sister, and on’el sounds better than em’on, at least to me. Language is weird, go with it.  
> rigelle = woman crowned
> 
> Cultural note: I mark out a difference between warriors and soldiers, where warriors are held in greater esteem in Togruta society. Soldiers fight because they are told to do so. Warriors fight for their clan and family.
> 
> The rigelle, which is literally Tolkien’s elvish for ‘woman crowned’ is the name for the dance that marks the completion of a rite of passage for a Togruta female. In this instance, it’s hunting an akul, and then she is ‘crowned’ with its teeth, becoming a full member of the clan as an adult, able to choose her partner(s), and is now a huntress in her own right.
> 
> Also, I make this all up as I go! It's not canon or even legends. But there's not much there, there, so wheeee?


	6. Shadows Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder to the guests and anons, all of my work will be locked to Archive users only at the end of the month. If you want to keep reading, apply for an invite! It should only take a couple of days, and you wouldn't have to miss a thing.
> 
> Alas, online security needs to be a thing. =/

Mace was concerned.  The war itself, and the war they fought with the Sith, were problems enough.  Now, however, something was happening to Master Yoda.  They were in the Grandmaster’s rooms again, Mace, Adi, Vokara, Tera, but at the moment the small Jedi was abstracted.  It was true, sometimes Yoda would put on a show of obtuseness to frustrate people, but he did not do that when it came to serious discussions.

 

That meant the distraction was real.

 

Real, and very much a problem.

 

“Master Yoda,” Mace said again, leaning forward into Yoda’s line of sight.  “We were discussing how Skywalker needs to be watched carefully.  He is in great danger, but he is headstrong and does not care for being handled.”

 

“Hm, yes, very strong Skywalker is,” Yoda agreed, his green eyes focusing on Mace for the first time in five minutes.  “Great care we must take with him.  Know what he needs, I do.”

 

“You do?” Vokara asked, her tone almost gentle.  Yoda turned to her, a hard look in his eyes.

 

“Yes, I do,” Yoda confirmed, then jumped down from his low seat, calling his gimer stick to him and walking away.  “Recall him, I must.”

 

“Master Yoda,” Adi said, her concern threading through her rich voice.  “Could you please tell us what is going on?  You have been distracted of late, and we might be able to help you.”  Yoda turned and looked at her, his head cocked and ears pointed up as though he were amused.

 

“Worry, you do, Adi, but worry you should not.  In the Force you should trust, as we have forgotten to do,” he said, and left the rooms, leaving Mace feeling like he’d just been hit over the head.  Only Tera Sinube looked unconcerned.  The ancient master turned to Mace with eyes that often saw to the heart of matters.

 

“I believe that meaning is clear enough,” Tera said.

 

“You going to enlighten us, then?” Vokara all but snapped.

 

“We must trust in the Force,” Tera said with a small, bemused smile.

 

“This isn’t funny, Tera,” Mace said, his voice low and steady, in spite of the tension he felt.

 

“No, my old friend, it is not funny at all,” he said, his eyes suddenly ancient and far, far too knowing.  “Master Yoda has asked us to trust in the Force, and that is what we must do.  Now, I still have plans yet to finalize, and I am sure you all have other tasks to accomplish.”

 

Vokara snorted, her irritation plain, but she refrained from further comment and left the rooms, followed by Tera.  Adi shot him a sympathetic glance as she left, no doubt to return to the Senate to shore up political support, as Vokara would return to puzzling apart the chips and Tera would continue to plan for an evacuation.  Mace, however, lingered, looking about the small, spare rooms that had belonged to Master Yoda for centuries.  From this room he had guided the Jedi Order and seen it safely through many trials.

 

And now, when they needed him most, after he had organized this secret council of sorts, he was suddenly not himself.  It did not help that they had not yet heard from Vos and Ventress, and Mace was beginning to wonder if they had thrown away two more lives on this mad errand to speak to Yoda’s former apprentice.  That had to weigh on the Grand Master’s mind, but that could not be the whole of it.

 

Mace Windu was no longer merely concerned, but could taste the bitter tang of fear itself upon his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Anakin stood on the bridge of the _Resolute_ as the ship along with the 501 st returned to Coruscant, though why they were returning was something of a mystery.  Normally, he would be thrilled to be back, to have a chance to see Padme again, but she was still en route back from Shili.  Not that he wasn’t happy that his wife had decided to have Ahsoka help with a diplomatic mission.  From the report he saw, it had been a rousing success, with Togurta warriors and healers expected to join the 332nd to start and then be integrated in to other units.  That had set his mind on fire with the idea of pulling in other planetary forces.  Pantoran snipers, Bothan spies, Selonian scouts would be a dream.

 

“General Skywalker, sir,” one of the bridge officers said, pulling Anakin out of his reverie.  His head jerked up, and he let his hands fall at his sides.  “We’re getting a priority message from the Temple.”

 

“Is it an emergency?” he asked, his shoulders already tensing.  It had been a slow few weeks for the war.  Simple border patrols, a skirmish or two, but he could feel something building.  Ever since Luminara had accompanied the 501st to remove those chips from the command staff, Anakin had been waiting for the rest of the trap to snap shut. 

 

This call was the start of that snap. 

 

He knew it.

 

“No, sir.  I’ll transfer it, sir,” the officer said, and Anakin nodded sharply as he left the bridge for a small briefing room.  He typed in his code, and Grand Master Yoda appeared on the vid screen.

 

“Master Yoda, is everything alright?” he asked, genuinely surprised.  Yoda never talked to him directly if he could talk to Obi-Wan instead.  The small Jedi had never been cruel to Anakin, not directly, but he had not always been kind.  Regardless, that did not mean that one simply was rude to someone who was eight hundred years old and had likely forgotten more about the Force than Anakin would ever know.

 

That, and reports from the troopers that had fought with him were, to a man, laced with palpable awe.  Yoda and Anakin might have never gotten along, personally, but Anakin had to respect someone who respected the _vod’e_.

 

“Hm, many answers to that question, there are, young Skywalker,” Yoda said, his ears perking up with amusement.  “But not all, alright is.  With you I would speak, before you see others.  A favor I have to ask you.”

 

“Of course, Master Yoda, what do you need me to do?” he asked, feeling suddenly off-base.  Yoda didn’t ask for favors, especially from him.

 

“To the Temple, you must first come.  Talk, we will,” Yoda said, then cut the comms.  Anakin sat back, his gloved hands gripping at the console.  He could feel it, like an oncoming storm, the strangeness and the quiet that hid something else building underneath.  It was like the calm just before a sandstorm swept over the sand dunes, an indrawn breath the moment prior to all hell breaking loose.

 

If anything, it actually made him glad Padme wasn’t here.

 

* * *

 

The Temple was unchanged and unchanging.  Anakin knew some of the Jedi who felt comforted by that.  He had been, when he had been small and new to the Order.  Obi-Wan had kept them in the Temple for a time, but they were often away.  Looking back, Anakin understood it had been to keep him out of sight of the Council, to not rub their faces in his existence or that he was part of the Order, or both.  But every time they had to return, it was always the same.  Familiar.  Safe.

 

That safety was an illusion, however.  It always had been.  No place was ever truly safe.  That bit of knowledge he had carried with him since he could remember, since his mother had told him to be on guard even in their small, stifling rooms in Gardulla’s palace. 

 

It had been the safest place he had ever known, though.

 

Now he walked through the halls looking for Master Yoda.  His first visit had been to the Master’s rooms, which had been oddly empty.  Then he had asked if the Council was in session.  It was not.  Then he had visited the open gardens, recalling that Yoda liked to sit under the trees.  While the gardens were not unoccupied, Master Yoda was nowhere to be seen.

 

Now, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and Chosen One (if you believed in prophecy, which Anakin still wasn’t sure he did), was deeply frustrated.

 

The little troll had asked him to the Temple, had asked him to report to the Jedi Master before anything else, before military briefings or even updating the Chancellor on the state of the war.  And he was now nowhere to be found.

 

With an effort of will, Anakin closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, letting his jaw unclench and his fists loosen at his side.  The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order might appear whimsical to some, but Anakin knew better.  Yoda was nothing if not deliberate.  Anakin could sense that about him, the focus that was like a knife, and eyes that saw everything.  If Yoda didn’t want to be easily found but also still wanted to speak, it meant that Yoda wanted to speak privately.  Very privately.

 

Drawing in a breath, Anakin opened up his Force senses.  Normally, he kept a tight lid on things while at the Temple.  Opening one’s self invited scrutiny, and since his experience in the Sith Temple, Anakin did not want to think about what he felt like to other Jedi.  Obi-Wan had assured him that there was nothing obvious, nothing that on the surface would serve to give away the fact that he had essentially communed with a Sith artifact. 

 

Of course, that implied there was something non-obvious but still detectable.

 

But Yoda loved his little games and tests, and Anakin had little choice but to play along.  Feeling the flow of the Force, Anakin could sense the bright sparks of the younglings and Padawans, the steady flames of the Knights and Masters, the low thrum of the trees, and beyond the walls of the Temple was the inferno of life that was Coruscant.  However, he was looking for one presence, one person in all this life, and he felt through the lines and webs of connection, the criss-crossing threads that connected person to person and on and on.  His mind raced along those connections, flitting lightly over the luminous nodes that were people, so light they didn’t even notice him passing them by, and he idly thought he had come a long way.  Once, he would have felt like a charging bantha to others, now he was lighter than a feather.

 

Then there, a light, a light that was powerful and intense and self-contained.  Like a sun that could dim itself so it could come closer to others without destroying them.  The dual combination of power and control, of warmth and the potential for destruction would have been enough to drive anyone to their knees in awe.

 

Anakin mostly felt an overwhelming annoyance because Yoda, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, a being over 800 years old, was sitting on the roof of the Hall of Knighthood.  Likely with his tiny feet dangling over the edge.

 

Pulling himself out of the Force, Anakin looked up, eyes narrowed.  He thought about leaving, about going to the Chancellor and reporting like he should.  But there had been something in Yoda’s voice, in his very presence that made Anakin sigh, grumble to himself, and start heading up.

 

It took only fifteen minutes to gain the roof, and as he had predicted, there was Grandmaster Yoda, sitting on the ledge, his feet dangling over the edge.

 

“What is it?” he asked peremptorily.  Yoda continued to gaze out at the skyline, but by the twitch of his ears, Anakin knew Yoda had heard him.

 

“You asked me here,” Anakin said, sitting down beside the little green Jedi, his long legs hanging over the edge.  Heights had never bothered him, even though he had been raised in the desert.  Even when podracing he hadn’t been more than a meter or two off the ground.  But the sky had never held any terror for him.

 

“Hm, yes,” Yoda confirmed, and then finally turned to look at Anakin, waiting for him to ask the question.  Anakin thought about not asking it, if only to make the small Jedi actually work for something for once.  Then he thought better of it.  For all that Yoda and he had been at odds, that was no reason to be petulant.

 

“Why, Master?  What’s the favor you need?” he asked, doing his best to use a modest tone.  It was strangely easier than it had once been.  Before the war, looking back, he knew he had been cocky.  The war had shown him how much he didn’t know, and how much he didn’t know about himself.  And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to try to be the best in the room for fear of being sent away.  That maybe, just maybe, there were people who cared about him for himself, not because of what he might be or might have done.

 

It was a hard thing to accept, and all that he had been through and learned recently tested him to the very limits of his control.  But the control was holding.

 

“Two favors, I need,” Yoda said, sliding his gaze away from Anakin and back to the Corscuant skyline.  “Leave the Temple, I must first.  After, I will tell you the second.”

 

“Okay,” Anakin said slowly, trying to decipher all the reasons why Yoda might want to leave the Temple and why he would do it in this round about fashion.  If he wanted to leave, he could do so at any time.  Instead, Anakin reasoned he wanted to leave quietly, without being noticed.  He wanted to be smuggled out of the Temple and Coruscant.

 

The why of the matter eluded him completely, but that was often the case as far as Yoda was concerned.

 

“How soon do you need to leave?” Anakin asked, trying to figure out how to best get the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order (a fact that seemed more pertinent than ever) out of the Temple and off of Coruscant without anyone the wiser.  Yoda, of course, seemed unconcerned.  He smiled, his ears perking up.

 

“Now.”

 

Anakin sighed.

 

“Of course you do,” he said, his annoyance flaring to life once more, which earned him a sidelong glance from Yoda.  Anakin returned it with a flat stare, but then threw up his hands in surrender.  “We’ll ship out on the _Resolute_ , but I need the day for standard checks and troop replacements.  I also need to report to the Chancellor.”

 

Yoda’s ears went very still.

 

“No, you need not,” Yoda said.  “Time for clones and safety, you may have, but send your report you can.  To the Senate, you must not go.”

 

“Master Yoda, why not?  I know there’s something the Council isn’t telling me, and this just confirms that you’re keeping something back.  Something that I might need to know,” Anakin insisted, making a conscious effort to tamp down his annoyance and frustration and anger.  He hated secrets, being kept in the dark.  His mother had tried to shield him from the worst of things on Tatooine, and all it had done was to leave him unprepared when something had happened.  It had made him feel even more helpless than he already had been.

 

No.  He had never cared for secrets, for all that he kept far, far too many himself.  They writhed like snakes in his mind sometimes, twisting on themselves, turning things inside out and wrong.

 

But before he could get lost in his thoughts, Yoda stood, levering himself up careful of the ledge.  The small Jedi standing was eye-height with Anakin as he sat, and he folded his hands over the end of his walking stick.

 

“Trust, I ask of you, young Skywalker, for a small time.  Then, all I will tell you.  This, I promise,” Yoda said, green eyes steady and grave as if he could see the secrets that weighed on Anakin’s own mind.  His instinct was to look away, to dissemble, but this was Master Yoda.  Obtuse and traditional, he might be, disingenuous, he was not.

 

“Ugh, fine,” Anakin groused, standing.  “You know a few ways out of the Temple, I take it?”

 

Yoda only smiled up at him, his ears perked up with amusement.

 

“Board the _Twilight_ by 20:00 hours tonight, and we’ll rendezvous with the _Resolute_ in orbit before going out,” Anakin said.  Yoda nodded and began to walk away, but as he did Anakin thought of one last thing.  “Stay out of sight of the troopers, if you can.  They’re the worst gossips in the whole galaxy, if this little trip you want to take is supposed to be secret, you’ll want it to stay that way.”

 

Yoda let out a small laugh at that and bowed his head in silent acknowledgement of the request.  Anakin shook his head, letting the dark thoughts settle down, like dust after a storm.  He could feel them there all the time now, just on the edges of perception, as if they were waiting for something.

 

He had managed to keep them at bay so far.  Even after Ahsoka had been... _hurt_.  After what Tarkin had done to the young woman who had become all but a little sister to him.  Even after learning that the troopers had control chips in their heads, designed to make them the _perfect slaves_ , he had held on.  It had been the memory of Ahsoka’s thoughtfulness of him, even in the aftermath of her own pain, Obi-Wan’s patience and understanding after all this time, and Padme’s love that had let him defend himself.  That had let him stay good when he had wanted to rage.

 

Rage, he knew, would have been no way to repay those he loved most for their love.

 

But it was there, waiting.

 

He wondered if one day the waiting would be over, if he would one day be unable to hold the darkness in his own mind at bay.

 

Were any of them here, he might feel better, he might draw from their strength has he had done before.  But now he could not.  Now, he only had Yoda’s mysterious errand to run, and was not even able to talk to the Chancellor, a man who had looked out for Anakin like a kindly uncle since he had been a little boy.

 

Thinking of the man, Anakin recalled how the Chancellor, newly risen to power, had taken the time to be kind and warm to a boy who had wanted to appear brave but had been so very scared.  A boy who had been given to a newly minted Jedi Knight on the orders of his own Master.  Had Qui-Gon lived, Anakin did not think he would have been so scared, as the older man had assumed a place in his life Anakin hadn’t even known he had been missing.  Like a father.  But Obi-Wan had been distant, not overtly affectionate, so Anakin had trailed after the Chancellor happily during his return to Naboo.

 

Now he was advised against going to speak to that same man.

 

It was strange, he thought, and almost felt compelled to go speak to the Chancellor of out sheer contrariness.

 

Almost.

 

Instead, he shook his head, as if that alone could shake away the dark thoughts that crowded around every time he let his mind wander, and then got himself down from the roof to get back to the necessities of getting ready to ship back out on the same day as he arrived.  It was going to be a long day, for himself and for Appo.  Longer for Appo, who was still adjusting to his new command.  He just hoped Yoda followed through on his promise to answer Anakin’s questions.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had sensed Yoda aboard the _Twilight_ , and then had been able to tell he was around somewhere on the _Resolute_ , but apparently Anakin’s request to stay out of sight of the troopers was one the Jedi Master had taken to heart.  While Anakin could be annoyed at Yoda for taking his request to such an extreme degree, he had other things to deal with.  Like a grumpy Republic Admiral and a curious Commander.

 

“General, if you could just tell us why we’re back out here so quickly,” Yularen started off, unhappy with the quick turnaround orders and making no bones about it.  Appo, however, was much more contained in his disappointment, to the point where Anakin could barely tell.  Even Rex would have emoted more than this.

 

“It would help the men, sir, if we had an idea of what our next mission was.  They like to be prepared,” Appo said, his tone even and his face almost blank.  Appo had not taken the news of the chips well.  The command staff had them removed, but even Yularen didn’t know about the whole damn army being chipped.  The Council had deemed it too dangerous for others to know.  That the high ranking troopers knew was only to ensure the safety of civilians should the worst come to pass.

 

There was no end to the secrets, he thought.  Then he pulled his mind back to the present, giving both of the men before him his best ‘I’m a Jedi General and answer to higher powers’ look.  It worked better on people who hadn’t seen Jedi up close.

 

“I’ve got orders, and you know it, otherwise I would have given us at least two days on Coruscant.  Something’s coming, and we need to be ready for it,” Anakin said, and then held up one hand to forestall their interjections.  “No, don’t say we need rest or repairs.  It’s been light going lately, and we’re in shape.  By ready, I mean we need to be out here, and there’s… there’s something going on.  Something… something I need to find.”

 

Frowning, Anakin wasn’t sure where that last statement had come from, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth.  There was something out there he needed to find, needed to know.  Maybe that was the reason for Yoda’s secrecy, which would make him feel slightly less upset about everything.  Supposedly none of the Jedi could see much into the future.  He could, and Ahsoka could, but barely.  If Yoda had seen something, that might explain why he was being so cagey about it, especially if it had to do with his supposed status as the Chosen One.

 

“Ah, Jedi things, sir?” Appo asked, his shoulders relaxing slightly.  “That’s alright, then.”  Anakin felt a smile on his lips, and clapped Appo on the shoulder by way of thanks for his understanding.  He glanced at Yularen who rolled his eyes and sighed.

 

“Of course, we must acknowledge the gifts of the Jedi.  Far be it from me, a mere Admiral, to dissuade you, Skywalker,” Yularen said with relatively good grace.  Anakin let out a bark of laugher.

 

“Thanks Yularen.  I better go attend to my ‘Jedi things’, then.  I’ll let you know when we have a better heading, but for now just ease us out of the system,” he ordered.  Yularen nodded and headed to the bridge to carry out his orders.  Then Anakin turned to Appo.  “You just see to it that the men are alright.  Maybe we should set up something like Ahsoka did on her ship, that makeshift caninta.”

 

“The men would like that, sir.  They heard about it from some of the 332nd, and they’ve been dropping some pretty blatant hints,” Appo noted dryly.  The trooper had taken some time to find his feet, and Anakin thought Rex might have had a few chats with his younger brother, but now he was much more comfortable around Anakin. 

 

“By hints you mean they’ve been flat out telling you they want it, don’t you?” Anakin asked teasingly.

 

“Yes, sir,” Appo answered with a tight smile.  Anakin huffed.

 

“Well, look into it.  I’ll be in my rooms if you need me,” he said, and left the small briefing room for his quarters.

 

Which was where he found Yoda waiting.

 

The door whispered shut behind him, and Yoda looked up at Anakin from his place on Anakin’s bunk.  The small Jedi had been meditating, his stick laid across his lap, but now he actually smiled to see Anakin.

 

“Ah, done you are with your troopers.  Good.  Speak now we can.  Made it safe, I have,” Yoda said, making no move to get off of the bed.  Anakin fought down some minor irritation and took the single desk chair.

 

“Safe?  How would this place be unsafe?  We’re on a Republic cruiser,” Anakin scoffed, sitting back, one leg cocked over the other, and his arms crossed over his chest.  He shouldn’t be tense right now, but something had him on edge.  Something whispered to him, sibilant and sinister.  Warning of danger.  But danger from where?  Yoda?  That made no sense.

 

“Hm, think you the Republic safe?  Perhaps, perhaps.  To a slave, freedom appears safe.  But free, Jedi are not.  Free, the Republic is not.”  The words were said with such sorrow, that for all Anakin felt his throat constrict and his hands balled into fists, because _how dare he_ talk about slavery and freedom as if he knew what it was, the very sorrow in Yoda’s voice cut through to the heart of a boy who only wanted to fly.  Because something was wrong, more than the war, under the surface, deep where darkness could lie in wait.

 

“Master Yoda,” Anakin implored, his voice thick, his heart heavy, “Tell me, what is going on.  Please.”

 

Yoda’s ears drooped, and the smile that graced that ancient face was bittersweet.

 

“Care for what I say, you will not, young Skywalker,” Yoda warned, his green eyes solemn.  Anakin’s hand, the one of blood and bone, balled into a fist.  He consciously unclenched it, and then nodded, holding Yoda’s gaze. 

 

“My hand, you must take, before we speak,” Yoda said, holding out one small clawed hand.  Anakin reached forward, wrapping his large hand around Yoda’s own.  Then there was the sensation of being cocooned in light.  Bright light that exposed everything, all the darkness, but instead of condemning him with it, the light burned it away, revealing most of the darkness to be whips and shadows, insubstantial things that held no power over him, as it was not _of_ him.  Only a small portion remained, things he had done, lines he had crossed, the fear and anger that had been a part of his very existence as a slave.  But it was _his_ darkness, his alone, but Yoda did not look at him with disappointment or disgust.  Instead, the Grandmaster of the Jedi looked upon him, for the first time, with approval.

 

“At the heart of the Senate, a Sith is.  Either controls the Chancellor or is the Chancellor himself,” Yoda said, and Anakin tried to jerk away, to deny it, his heart hammering in his chest, but the instinct had no backing, no string to make it jump or leap.  The small Jedi held on to his hand with surprising strength, and Anakin stilled, the panic ebbing away.  He felt a sick realization dawn in his mind, and he slid out of the chair, his knees connecting hard with the cold, hard floor, though the pain of it barely registered.

 

“Yes, yes see it now, you do.  Feel it now, you can,” Yoda said, that sorrow once again in his voice.  “Knew what to look for, I did not.  Long has it been since such tactics were used against us.  Close to seeing, Obi-Wan must have been, but time he did not have to look.  Free, you never have been.  Failed you, the Jedi have.”

 

It was almost too much to process, too much to believe that the kindly man who had been there for him at a dark time had only been using him, only ever interested in him because of his power.  His breathing quickened, and his hand, the one of metal and circuits, struck the floor with surprising force.  All that fear and anger that had lingered came to the fore, a storm of horror and rage.  He wanted to scream, to tear everything apart, to go down to the planet and kill that old, vile man and be done with it.

 

Then he felt a pressure on his hand and looked up to see Yoda holding his hand between his own, and he once again felt the light, this time not surrounding him, but calling to him.  Showing him a way, if he could but take it.  With a supreme effort to of will, he let the storm subside, but the shock remained.  The sick, twisting sorrow of knowing how few people in the whole galaxy had ever cared for him, just him.  And how lonely he had always been.

 

“The Sith _is_ the Chancellor, Master Yoda.  He’s been… grooming me for a long time.  So long I couldn’t notice.  No one noticed,” he said, voice a nearly inaudible whisper at the last.

 

“Shy from that statement the Council would, but believe it I do.  Many regrets I have.  My greatest, failing you is, Anakin Skywalker,” Yoda admitted, and Anakin wondered what it cost him to admit that, or if he had already paid the price in blood.  The blood of innocents and troopers and Jedi.  “Free you are not.  Shield you I can for a time.  Notice anything more, the Sith would.  Free yourself, you must.”

 

“ _How_?” he asked, heart in his throat, eyes pleading.  He had to be free, he had to. 

 

“Balance, you must seek,” Yoda said, and an echo stirred in his mind.  The Father, Mortis, and other things, things that were on the edge of perception, lighting quick and quiet as silence.  “To Taris, you must go.  Answers for you there may be.”

 

Although the past ten minutes had contained enough revelations to stun a bantha, Anakin was not stupid, nor had he missed the implication that Yoda would not accompany him to his destination.  Drawing a steadying breath, Anakin folded his legs underneath him and sat up straight, looking up at the ancient Jedi Master, who still held Anakin’s hand in his own.

 

“Answers for me, but what about you, Master?” he asked, pushing away his own worries for the moment.  Yoda patted his hand and withdrew their connection.  The light faded and the whispers and threads came slithering black, sliding into his mind as if they had never left.  It was an invasive feeling, one that made his flesh crawl to know how long he had lived like that, all unaware.  But he was aware now.  Aware and determined to not be used ever again.

 

“Another path, I have.  A fighter, I will take tonight.  Think of me, you must not,” Yoda said, expression once again bittersweet.  “Perhaps balance we both will find.”

 

“I hope so, too, Master,” Anakin agreed, caught between despair that they had been played for over a decade, and the wild faith that he could defeat this enemy, because it was his destiny to do so.

 

He was the Chosen One.

 

And he would bring balance to the Force.

 

Or they would all be lost.

 

* * *

 

Anakin sat at the controls of the _Twilight_ , Appo sitting beside him, as they approached Taris.  It had been a massive city-world once, like Coruscant, but it had been obliterated in a series of wars thousands of years ago.  Taris had been reclaimed and rebuilt, through it never returned to its former glory.  Small, isolated cities dotted the surface of the planet, with large swaths of farmland that eventually gave way to wilderness between them.  Only one place was large enough for a spaceport, but Anakin hesitated before he could initiate landing proceedures.

 

“Sir?” Appo asked, a small measure of concern in his voice.  The trooper was dressed in simple pants and shirt, with a jacket for all the gear he simply refused to do without.  Of course, a blaster at his side as well.  Parting troopers from their blasters was almost as difficult as getting them to give up sweets.  When Anakin had told Appo that he was taking a little detour, to catch up with the _Resolute_ later, the Commander had insisted that Anakin have backup.  Had this been before the Sith Temple, before Ahsoka’s abduction, he might have simply ordered Appo to stay put on the cruiser.  As it was, Anakin thought he might need whatever stability Appo’s presence could provide.

 

Especially since Yoda had left on his own mysterious errand mere hours after their conversation.  There was no indication where the Jedi Master had gone, but Anakin had other things to deal with, like getting to Taris without the Grand Army command knowing about it.  That had involved plotting a patrol course, and suggesting that he take a separate scouting vector to rendezvous with the _Resolute_ to cover more area.

 

Yularen had only raised his eyebrow and set the course. 

 

Likely the Admiral had an inclination that something _Jedi_ was going on, which meant he wanted little to nothing to do with it.  While Yularen wasn’t prejudiced against the Jedi, like some career military men, he was not comfortable with the mysticism involved in being around them.  Either way, Anakin was suspended in space over Taris now, the planet green and full of life below him, thanks to Ithori recovery efforts, so the database had said.

 

“Just… finding my way, Appo.  Give me a minute,” Anakin said, tossing the other man a half smile before he closed his eyes and meditated.  Appo, now used to Jedi habits, kept as quiet and still as he could, which as a trooper was damn near statue like.

 

They were at Taris, but obviously it wasn’t just Taris he needed to be at.  A specific place, he was looking for a place where he could find balance.  That meant a Temple, or some other focal point.  Once again, he extended his Force senses out, looking for something, anything, that could point him in the right direction.  His brow furrowed as he looked, casting a wide net, trying not to be confused by the green growing life that sprung up across the surface, growing in spite of the rot that had touched the planet nearly to its core.  Then, he felt it, on the edge of things, as though it was hiding. 

 

Anakin knew where he needed to go.  He opened his eyes and began to plot a course.  Appo kept his expression neutral, save for a sliver of curiosity. 

 

“Can’t help but notice, sir, that we’re not headed for the space port,” the Commander said, tone as dry as the desert Anakin had known as a child.

 

“No we are not,” Anakin confirmed.

 

“Care to fill me in on where we _are_ going, sir?  If it’s not too much trouble, of course,” Appo asked, and it was such a _Rex_ way of saying things, Anakin did a double take.  Then he laughed.

 

“Rex gave you some advice, huh?” Anakin asked as he started to take them down.  Appo shot him a tight grin by way of reply.  Shrugging, Anakin continued.  “The north pole.  Well, underneath it, actually.  There’s something there I need to see… or hear.  I’m not sure.”

 

“Oh good, then we get to find out together,” Appo said, and Anakin laughed again.  The future of the Jedi and the Republic might hinge on this, but having Appo along, the other man finally shaking off some of his conditioning to let out that weird sense of humor all troopers had, was a strange kind of buoy.  It meant even more that Appo had insisted on joining him, because it meant that he wasn’t alone.

 

Somehow, that mattered now more than ever, as if by seeing Appo, he could see all the other people who would be with him if they could.  Padme would be ready to go through any and all archives and data for him, while Ahsoka would be ready to fight by his side should anything attack him, and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan would steady him as he had always tried to do.

 

Not long ago, when Ahsoka first had gone to be the General of the 332nd, he had felt alone.  So terribly alone.  Now, he knew he was never alone.  The people he loved and who loved him were with him.  That loneliness had been his own fear reflected back at him a thousand fold by the Chancellor’s manipulations, and he would never, ever fall prey to that ever again.

 

Dipping the nose of the _Twilight_ down, Anakin broke into the atmosphere above Taris, and made for what looked like a large, icy plateau.  Touching down, he cycled down the engines, but let them run on standby to keep them from freezing over.  Exiting the ship, he relied on his Force senses to guide him, Appo at his heels keeping an eye out for any material threats.  His senses led him onward, to a hidden door, completely frozen over. 

 

After puzzling at it for a few moments, the cold seeping into his skin, their breath steaming in the air, he shrugged and reverted to form, using his lightsaber to cut it away.  The makeshift doorway revealed a staircase that spiraled down into the darkness.  For a moment he couldn’t move, seeing the dark tunnel stretching down and away from him, a terrible echo of the Sith Temple on Coruscant.  It had not been long since he had been there, since he had thought himself nearly a god, drunk on dark power.  If this was a Sith or a Jedi place was hard to tell, the sense of it was so faint, but there was no going back.

 

One step, and then another, Anakin descended into the dark, his lightsaber ignited to guide their way.  Behind him, Appo drew his blaster, attaching a scope light to give them a little more illumination.  There was a strange emptiness about the place, as if it had not merely been abandoned but scoured, stripped bare of anything that had once given life to it.

 

From what little light they had, Anakin could see spare, bare walls, the ice giving way to pale, off-white stone as they descended and it became warmer.  Eventually, they reached the bottom of the stairs, coming to a landing.  Anakin paused, and Appo squeezed past Anakin to examine what seemed to be a dead end.  After a few moments, the trooper stood back, looked at Anakin and shrugged.

 

Anakin placed his hand on the wall opposite the stairs, and the door opened at his touch, silently sliding back into the wall to permit them entrance.  Stepping through the door way, keeping his saber at the ready, Anakin walked through simple, spare corridors, finding rooms much like the ones in the Temple on Coruscant.  Communication rooms, dorm rooms, gyms, storage rooms, all of it empty of any indication of former habitation.  It was a shell, where once Jedi had lived.

 

Then he found the bridge.

 

It was a delicate thing, a simple person-wide span out over what seemed to be an endless drop into the heart of the planet.  Overhead the cavern likewise stretched upwards into darkness.  Anakin looked over his shoulder at Appo.  Even though the trooper wasn’t Force sensitive in the slightest, though some of them seemed to be at times, he had seemed to sense that there was a hush throughout this place.  A reverence of things lost.  Forgotten.

 

Appo jerked his chin sharply forward, and Anakin stood aside to let him go first, pointing his weapon down to light the path in front of them while keeping Anakin out of the way of blaster fire as they would have to walk in single file.  Even their footsteps failed to echo in the monstrous space as they advanced over the bridge. 

 

Upon reaching the other side, another door opened, and eventually they were led into what had to be a council room.  There was a low stone in the center of the room, where a series of low, tiered stone circles must have once served as benches for the Jedi Council.

 

“It’s here.  Somewhere,” Anakin said quietly, knowing he was close to whatever he had come here for.  For whatever Yoda had sent him here for.  There had been nothing that attacked them, no ancient guardians or anything that was like an archive.  Only this room and the stone.

 

Powering down his saber, he looked closely at the stone and detected an imperfection, as though someone had bored a perfect circle out of the stone and replaced it with more of the same.  There was barely a seam, but it was there.  Mindful of the last time he had reached out to a Force artifact without thinking, and knowing that there was no one who could save him from himself this time, he cautiously touched the replaced circle of stone.

 

At his touch, the circle depressed into the rest of the stone, and there was a slow, sliding rumble throughout the room, as if things were shifting just below them.  Then the stone itself broke apart, seams he had not been able to see appearing and falling away.  As the stone casing fell away, an ancient terminal appeared with a device that looked like a Jedi holocron but felt nothing like them.

 

Anakin jerked back half a step, his body instantly relaxing into a fighter’s stance.  Appo had his blaster up and aimed at the terminal, that being the only obvious reason for Anakin’s reaction.  Letting out an irritated breath, irritated at his own jumpiness, Anakin waved Appo down.  The trooper frowned, but lowered his weapon again.

 

“Sir?  What is this, if you don’t mind my asking?”  Appo’s voice was quiet in the gloom, now only slightly brighter for the lights on the terminal. 

 

“It looks like a holocron, special Jedi data storage, but it feels different, Appo.  It feels… alive,” he said, half with wonder and half with horror.

 

“Should we take it back to the ship, sir?” Appo asked.  Anakin had not taken his eyes off of the artifact, but he heard the worry in Appo’s voice. 

 

“Only one way to find out if we can,” he said, and then reached for the object.  As his hand touched it, the terminal flared into life and then two projections sprang to life.  They were like standard holoprojections, only fully live sized, Anakin thought.  One was a tall, lean man, with shoulder length hair and a sardonic expression.  The other was a trim woman of medium height, her hair brushing over her brows and her chin lifted proudly.  Then they did something holoprojections should not have been able to do.  They both regarded Anakin as if they could actually see him, then they turned to each other, as if each projection was aware of the other.

 

“He’s got the feel of a Jedi,” the woman said, nodding her head in Anakin’s direction.  Anakin was, for once, stunned speechless.

 

“You should know better than most not to trust simply to feelings,” the man said, and the woman rolled her eyes.

 

“Still going on about that one, are you?” the woman asked archly.  A cocky smirk flickered across the man’s face.

 

“Got to keep you from getting too full of yourself somehow,” he replied.  Being ignored this long by _holoprojections_ finally snapped Anakin out of his shock.  He stood tall, his arms crossed, and reminded himself of exactly who and what he was.

 

“My _name_ is Anakin Skywalker, Knight of the Jedi Order, General of the Grand Army of the Republic.  I was told to come to Taris and find something.  My search led me here, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to know who in all the nine Corellian hells you are, and why you can actually interact with me like you’re real!” Anakin declared, his agitation rising as he went on.  The two projections watched him with only mild expressions, their eyes flickering to Appo and back to Anakin.  The man looked to the woman, who shrugged and gestured as if to say her companion could go first.

 

“My name is Revan, and my friend here is Meetra Surik,” Revan said, indicating the woman, who waved cheekily.

 

“Hi,” she said, as if she found Anakin’s discomfort amusing.  Then she turned to her companion.  “We better ease him in to all of this.  If our names didn’t ring a bell, well, it’s not surprising records about us were either lost or expunged.”

 

“Right here, still able to hear you,” Anakin reminded them testily.

 

“Yes, I am aware of your presence, Anakin Skywalker of the many titles.  We can play that game later if you like.  Both Revan and I have several.  We did tend to acquire such things as we went along,” Meetra said, regarding him once again, her expression turning from exasperation to one of patience.  “But there will be a lot we need to discuss if you were led here, and I would rather not overwhelm you.”

 

“I’m hardly fragile.  I can handle whatever you tell me,” he said with more confidence than might be warranted.  He still felt the effects of Yoda’s revelation, and he could feel the darkness around him, waiting for a way in, where it could run through him unchecked if he let it.

 

“No, young Jedi, you cannot,” Revan said in a gentle tone, and Anakin saw sympathy and understanding like he had never known in those eyes, the eyes of a man long, long dead.

 

Anakin looked from one projection to the other, and he realized that he could sense them in the Force.  Faint, but there.  Somehow, these two had left impressions of their actual _selves_ in this device.  Stored here for reasons he could not possibly fathom, but he knew he needed them.  They might be able to help him find the balance he so desperately lacked, that the Jedi and the galaxy lacked.  With their help, he might be able to do what he had been born to do, instead of feel torn in every direction and unsure of which way to go.

 

“How, how can I be what I should be?  How can I face what comes?” he asked, his heart constricting in his chest with fear, with flickering visions of death and horror and loss, too fast to know who was dying, but knowing among the dead were all that he loved and held dear.

 

“Time is of the essence, I believe, and you cannot stay here, so take this noetikon, and we will be with you,” Revan said, stepping back to gesture at the device Anakin had original thought of as a holocron. 

 

“It is time you were taught what the Jedi have forgotten and lost, and what they would deny,” Meetra said, a touch of frustration edging her voice.  But she stepped back as well, to give him access to what Revan called the noetikon.  Anakin looked between the two projections, more aware than they had a right to be, wondering what was in store for him.  He typically was more of a heavy lifter in terms of the Force, not a mystic.  But it seemed that the mystical was out to find him this time.

 

With a quick stride forward, he reached out and took the device.  As he did so, the terminal began to sink back into the stone, and the projections cut out.  He could feel them, however, inside the noetikon.  They were both blazes of light in his mind, but he could see that they had both passed through their own kinds of darkness, for some of it lingered at their centers.  It was a strange kind of thing to sense.

 

Then it was as though nothing had happened, the stone once more as it had been, the room quiet and silent and lit only by the light affixed to Appo’s blaster.  Anakin turned to his Commander, whose brown eyes were studiously calm.

 

“So about what you saw,” Anakin began to say.  Appo shook his head.

 

“Not sure what I saw, Jedi things being outside my scope of training.  I was just here as backup, sir,” Appo said, and Anakin felt his chest swell with gratitude.  With a crisp nod, Anakin acknowledged Appo’s implicit promise to not breathe a word of what had really happened here.  He could pass this whole trip off as picking up some old Jedi records, which was true in a way.  Never mind that those records seemed to be quasi-aware impressions of former Jedi themselves.

 

“Then let’s get out of here and go home,” Anakin said, clapping a hand to Appo’s shoulder, knowing that to learn all he could, he would have to avoid Coruscant for a time.  It would mean not seeing Padme for far too long, but there was no helping that.  To protect her from the Chancellor, Anakin had to be ready to face him and win. 

 

It was the only chance they would have, and for all that his heart cried out to save her now, to lock her away and protect her forever, he knew that would only end in their destruction.  The net had been woven too tightly and too well for them to escape through force of will alone.  Indeed, his visit to the Sith Temple had been good for one thing, at least, an idea of how the Sith worked.  There could be no second chances, no way for escape, it had to be a sure, decisive blow that the Sith did not expect, or he or someone like him would come worming back into existence.

 

To save those he loved, he would have to be apart from them, and as much as it cut him apart to do so, he would willingly suffer anything to prevent _their_ suffering.

 

It was what a Jedi was supposed to do, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoda and Anakin both surprised me here. They weren't supposed to do this, but then they did, and now I'm having to re-write and replot things. One more chapter, then a small hiatus while I scramble to fix what these two messed up!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, Anakin's growth, and a healthy nod to the Knights of the Old Republic games. They're dang good!


	7. Epilogue: Future’s Echo

Yoda was still gone.

 

It had been nearly three weeks.

 

Mace had put it about that the Grandmaster had felt a call of the Force and was in deep meditation under the care of Vokara Che. That would only pass muster for so long, but the war had continued to remain a series of skirmishes and feints while the Republic Senate and the Separatist Parliament were both apparently tired of the constant fight.   For now, it felt like both sides were rudderless and only prodding at each other from sheer force of habit.

 

But as soon as things heated up again, and Mace knew they would, Yoda’s presence would be needed. Then they would all be in a great deal of trouble if he could not be found.

 

All of their Generals were in the field, even Knight-Errant Tano, back from her sojourn on Shili to win them greater support and supplemental troops. Senator Amidala had received a great deal of praise in the Senate for this diplomatic victory, and other planets were slowly putting forward plans to help bulk out the Republic Army in order to put an end to this war quickly.

 

“I watched _him_ as world after world made their commitments to approach their local governments about following suit,” Adi said, no need to clarify which _him_ she meant. The one who was either puppet or master, though Mace could not ever recall the Chancellor feeling like a Force user to his senses. “He was not pleased, though he covered it well. I believe Senator Amidala noticed, though I believe she puts his displeasure down to the prospect of imminent loss of power, not other designs.”

 

“We must be careful with her,” Mace said. “She has been close to both Obi-Wan and Skywalker these past few years, and has been used as bait before.”

 

“I watch over her, and all the Senators, Mace. They are in my charge,” Adi said, blue eyes steely. Mace raised his hand to acknowledge the point and ward off further contention from his fellow Master.

 

“Anything else on the chips?” he asked. Vokara snorted with disgust and shook her head sharply.

 

“The data provided by Shaak Ti and her operative friend answers many questions about when the chips are implanted, how they grow with the brain, all of which makes it difficult to remove them quickly. It confirms that we were correct that we cannot solve this problem with mass surgery, though the incremental program should continue. There is an interesting connection to the memory and learning centers of the brain, as well, though I can’t figure out why. I think our best bet would be to use a slicer to override chip control, but the chips are a closed loop. Unfortunately, the ones I have were removed from the trooper’s they’re completely inert. I think they need the brain to function, and all of that means we can’t use the removed chips as slicing access points,” Vokara said darkly. She had taken the chips as a personal crusade, siding with Shaak Ti in the ill treatment of the clones, and had become even more strident the more data the Shaak provided for them.

 

“There must be a central control unit,” Tera suggested, leaning forward, his golden eyes bright in his ancient face. “If we can access the central control through an active chip, that might be what we need.”

 

“You can’t be serious!” Vokara declared. “Not to mention the fact that doing anything like that would certainly tip our hand, it would be deeply unethical to experiment on a living person.”

 

“We may not have a choice, Vokara,” Mace said softly, deeply troubled by the idea as well, but knowing that whatever moral ground they took would come with consequences. The question was for whom those consequences would be most dire.

 

“It is not as though we could ask a chipped trooper if he would agree to the procedure. We still aren’t sure what triggers premature activation,” Adi said. “If one _could_ agree, that might be another story, right, Vokara?”

 

Vokara breathed in sharply, drawing herself up as if to fight, but then she quickly deflated as her brilliant mind quickly assessed what would happen should she outright refuse what could be the only chance they would have to save the Jedi and the troopers.

 

“If one offered, volunteered, that could be different, yes,” she agreed, and Mace could see that it tore at the heart of her to do so. Vokara Che was a woman of iron will, of eyes that saw to the core of things, and brooked no nonsense. But she could never stand to see those in her care have their rights violated, their trust broken. Harsh but truthful, that was Master Healer to the bone.

 

“No one cares for this situation, Vokara, and you know we all respect these men a great deal, but more than their lives are stake,” he said, tone gentle. A spark flared in her eyes, only to be shuttered away.

 

“So what do we do, Mace? Yoda is still gone, the chips are a mystery and a threat still, and although the Senate has begun to rally and Tera’s plans are in place, we are far from being able to strike back,” Adi said, laying everything out plainly. More plainly than he would like.

 

Mace drew in a breath, closing his eyes. He sought guidance, the guidance that had once come easily to his call. Once he had seen Shatterpoints, the points in time where all could be gambled, all could be won or lost. Now he saw nothing, felt nothing, the Force had barred his access to future possibilities, and he had been wrong more than once in the last several months.

 

He had failed.

 

It made him cautious, and he wondered if there would come a time when caution must be abandoned, or all would be lost.

 

He opened his eyes.

 

“We carry on, as best as we can, Adi,” he said, eyes staring into the middle distance. “That is all we can do at the moment.”

 

The silence that greeted his pronouncement spoke volumes. Disbelief that this was all Mace Windu could suggest, a sinking sorrow that there really was no other option, and the determination to carry out what tasks they could to save what they could before their enemy made his move. Mace hoped it would be enough, but without the Force to guide him, he could not know.

 

He walked uncertain ground now, and he cared little for it.

 

There was, however, no choice.

 

Perhaps there never had been.

 

* * *

 

On the raucous planet of Nar Shadda, in the disquiet of a dingy apartment, two figures sat, one still and one quietly cleaning weapons. Other apartments housed too-large families their cramped quarters, desperately eking out a living on the moon above Nal Hutta, a place where everything could be bought or sold, from drugs and weapons, slaves and servants, even honor and dignity. The two in the apartment had spent little time wondering if they had any of the later. They had been through a great deal in the last several months, news from around the galaxy threatening to pull them away from their search, but they persisted until they washed up on the uncertain shores of Nar Shadda, a place where they could disappear and perhaps operate in peace.

 

Or whatever peace they could obtain, particularly on the pirate’s moon.

 

Then, in the stillness of the apartment, Barriss Offee opened her eyes and breathed in sharply. Fives looked up from the blaster he had been maintaining, his dark brown eyes tuned to the small tells of the former Jedi Padawan. Her very stillness gave much away, the almost thoughtful way she turned her head to face him, her blue eyes dark and deep. Had the lighting been better, Fives knew he would have seen fine yellow lines cracking through her irises, vestiges of the way in which she drew on the Force, from what he understood.

 

“I think I know what we need,” she said, and he set aside his weapon, giving her his full attention.

 

“What is it?” he asked, eager. They had been searching for answers ever since they had escaped Coruscant, doggedly chasing down clues and whispers and the meanest suggestions. She frowned, as though faced with a puzzle she couldn’t quite parse out.

 

“It was not necessarily clear, this vision, but the best I have had yet,” she said, putting off his question, but he knew. She had found the answer, even if it wasn’t clear to her, she had found it.

 

“Just tell me,” he insisted, sitting forward, rubbing the place where his tattoo once had been. That had become a habit, a bad habit, when he was agitated. But a lot had changed. Their clothes were now second hand, pants and jackets, rough wear for a rough life, and both had grown their hair long. She shook her long hair out, no longer under cover of a modesty cap, a delaying tactic. Then she stilled her hands and met his gaze once again.

 

“What is it we need?” he asked again. She shook her head, as if to dismiss the question and the thought entirely, but she spoke, and when she did, he knew they finally had their answer.

 

“An echo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace is having a rough go, hey? But Fives and Barriss are back in action! Whoo!
> 
> Gimme two weeks friends, and the next fic will start being posted. I've been writing like mad since I had to re-plot, and I want a touch more lead time. Two weeks, and things speed up. :)
> 
> So I noticed this week that the last chapter was posted exactly one year after I started this crazy thing, so thanks for a year of encouragement and patience! <3


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